Erase

At some point, I think due to your grandmother buying you one, I noticed that you seemed to like to draw on a white erase board. You’d scribble things and then erase in a super aggressive manner. Once it seemed like you liked to draw, I bought you a big one which I anchored to the wall at about your height. Got some dry erase pens at Costco and away we went.

I will say that this all seemed to graduate from sidewalk chalk that we’d use outside in the backyard on our patio. You’d scribble things on the ground, or draw on random items in the backyard. I’m not a very good artist, Bobo. Which I believe you didn’t care about. You just would rather see me draw than you. And so it was. I’d draw cars, faces, stick figures, and houses. The house was a favorite of yours. And it grew in size and detail as we moved through the months and years.

At some point the sidewalk chalk art moved inside to the white erase board. In here it was easier to erase and move on to the next thing, and also protected from the elements when inclement weather would shut down the outside activities. The white board became something that we’d do for long stints at a time. My house drawing was a center point, but we moved on to police cars, fire trucks, motorcycles and a myriad of other things to show you the world from a drawn perspective. Underneath the drawing I’d spell out what it was and point to each letter. It came to be that if I skipped that part, you’d wait and look from me to the white board as if I missed something.

You’d found a show that you loved called “Rainbow Horse” which was an animated show where objects would appear and then Rainbow Horse would trot around the screen bringing color to the objects. It was a show on Baby First, but you somehow found it on YouTube and would play each part that had a new picture on it and then point out the picture and point to the white board telling me “Draw this, Dad”. Which I did. Never in the detail and quality that the professional animator had in the cartoon, but nevertheless, you enjoyed it. Once I’d finished, you’d grab the eraser, erase feverishly and move on to the next frame in YouTube and order up another drawing.

As first I’d sit on the floor in front of the white board and do this, but as these sessions became longer I’d grab a chair and drag it over so I could sit while we drew. This could go on for quite some time. 30 minutes to an hour in some cases. You had become sensitive to the fact that I needed a chair, so when you were ready for me to draw for you, you’d grab my hand and pull me away from whatever I was doing and head over to the white board. Once you knew I was aware of where I should be going, you’d let go of my hand and go to the nearest chair and drag it over to position it in front of the whiteboard so that I’d have a place to hit. Always a gentleman Bobo. Well done.

You never really wanted to draw on your own much. I’d try to bait you into it, but you’d always grab my hand and put the marker in it. “You want me to do it?” You’d do your little dance of agreement. And so it went.

The part of all of this that made my heart soar were the pictures that I spied from school that showed you drawing on the whiteboard. Pictures of motorcycles, cars, bicycles and most of all, a house. That same house I’d drawn for you a million times in sidewalk chalk and white erase marker with a variety of chimneys, trees, fences, grass, the always important mailbox. That house that we’d drawn together, and you’d ultimately always erase.