I can’t draw.
And it bums me out. My son’s an artist, so there must be something in my genes, right? But even my stick figures are dreadful.
So I did the adult thing. I signed up for a beginning drawing class.
We spent most of the first night drawing cubes to learn perspective. I really began to get the hang of it. They weren’t pretty, but they were cubes.
Then the instructor pulled out a toy-sized model of a house and told us, “Now draw that!”