Last night, Annabelle got out the “art box” Trish gave her for her birthday. (A brilliant gift idea, damn Trish, she always comes up with the simplest and best ideas — she and Abbie went to the art supply story and filled a “real” art box with “real” artist materials. I shamelessly steal from Trish; just decided the other day to completely lift her holiday gift motif from last year.)

“This is the best pencil sharpener,” Annabelle cooed, twisting the pencil slowly past the shiny metal. “And this, THIS is a real artist’s pencil.”

We talked about whether she’ll be an artist when she grows up. She said she wasn’t sure, they don’t make much money. (Upon questioning, I learned her father had shared that tidbit.) I told her I think she’s already an artist, whether she likes it or not.

She announced she’d drawn her best ballerina to date. I agreed.

“Is that Annaballerina?” I asked, using my mother’s longtime nickname.

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “This is Sopherina!”

(Sophie starts ballet with Annabelle next week, the subject of much discussion and excitement.)

The black stuff from the pencil got all over her hands, so after she finished “sketching” a ballerina, Annabelle raced to the bathroom to wash her hands. Catching up with her, I caught the tail end of Annabelle nose to nose with the mirror, stage whispering, “I AM AN ARTIST!”

Priceless. No matter her future salary.

Sophie’s kicked out a few great drawings too, lately. Here’s one from the second week of school — you can actually make out Mary and her lamb, if you look closely. This is HUGE.