Yesterday I went to the Museum of Art on BYU campus to see a new exhibit with Mom, Amy, Heather, and Easton (who is 2). The exhibit was designedto highlight the influence of French Impressionism on American painters in the 1840's and 50's.
So there we were... wandering through the exhibit, thoughtfully gazing at each painting, when Easton delightedly exclaimed, "Horsey!"
Thrilled at the thought of Easton actually enjoying himself, we all leaned in to see what he was pointing at so we could praise his intelligence in our own sing-songy, baby-talk voices. Heather was standing--Easton in her arms--in front of a beautiful lanscape depicting grass and trees bending and waving in the breeze of a beautiful, sunny day.
Strangely, there wasn't an animal to be found on the canvas. There was, however, a series of brush strokes in the green grass that looked strangely like the shadow of a galloping horse if you looked at it with a forgiving eye.
After a moment we moved on to the next painting, and to our surprise heard Easton exclaim once again, "Horsey!"
No, I promise, darling boy... even though it might look like a horse, it's not actually a horse.
But it couldn't be helped. If he saw a horse, he saw a horse, and who were we to tell him otherwise?
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