First, he said he was painting a picture of Mama. Here's one eye, and two eyes, and hair and some legs.
I asked again: "What are you painting?" This is a tree. Here are some leaf-es.
I'm painting like an artist, he said. "When you're painting, you are an artist," I told him. Do you hear that, world? I'm AM an artist, he replied. He doesn't quite grasp contractions yet.
I couldn't make that shit up.
When he was finished, he explained that he'd painted a picture of Mama and Zelda, when Zelda was in Mama's belly. It sure was purple in there, he told me.