When I was 7 I tried to draw a picture of a tennis match. I drew a girl holding a racquet. Across the paper below her feet, I drew a net. I turned the paper 180 degrees and drew a boy, his feet also pointing towards the net. I was immediately frustrated at how my plan had failed–something was wrong with the perspective in my drawing. My dad hung it on the wall, which confounded me. How could he not see what a failure it was? He hung it with the boy facing up, the girl upside down, which was a typical choice, but doubly wrong as the drawing was about the girl.
My 5-year-old draws intently these days, routinely expresses grand frustration at his failure to capture what he is after, and argues when I admire what he has, in fact, captured. At the risk of being patronizing I insist on keeping the drawings. Sometimes he rips them up to show me that he is right.
He also will grab my phone and take dozens of pictures. Here is one from a family gathering, of my two nieces and a blur of thumb in the corner. My son thinks he didn't get this right, but I can't stop looking.