I had planned to write this post yesterday, but yesterday turned into one of those days where the world turns on its head and nothing ends up the way you expected it to. Instead of the quick trip to the doctor we had planned, we ended up spending eight hours in hospital where my son was sent from one department to another for an extremely wide variety of tests. All that was missing was a genius doctor with a limp and a very bad temper. We spent out time playing tic-tac-toe on the back of old receipts I found in my purse, reading the jokes and looking for recipes in old magazines, and debating how much the day would have cost us in a country without free health care. At the end of all that time we still have no idea what’s wrong with him but we have a long list of things that are not wrong with him. Looks like this is just an annoying virus we have to wait out.
But I digress…
During my little detour through the cake molds on Ali Express, I came across one shaped like a LEGO Minifigure. It reminded me that when I started working at LEGO, someone sent me a picture of a very elaborate LEGO cake to the tune of we-expect-you-to-start-making-these. Since then, I’ve come back to it a lot. In theory. Because I would love to make cakes like that. There’s only one problem. But a fairly big one.
Every Art Teacher I’ve ever had – bar one – and my mother.
All those teachers told me I was rubbish. ‘Just not creative,’ one of them said, ‘but that’s good. It would be terrible if she were good at everything.’ I was in 5th grade at the time that pearl of wisdom was dropped, in a bad school filled with problem kids, and one of the only students in that class who had any real interest in learning. But at art I apparently sucked and that awesome. In my head I could imagine beautiful drawings and art projects, but on the paper they were more Michaelblangelo than Michaelangelo.
I would love to draw. To pick up a pencil and create something beautiful. To decorate a cake like that. But each time I even think about trying, I hear the echos of all those teachers in my head.
Eva, you suck.
My mother can draw. She can create, she can design, she can build you the kitchen of your dreams. When I was six or seven, I had this My Little Pony colouring book. I coloured outside the lines a lot. She coloured in one of the pages to show me how it should be done. It was beautiful. But all I could think was, I can’t do that. What I do is not good enough.
Well, you know what. I don’t care anymore.
I don’t care if my drawing sucks. I don’t care if all you art teachers hate it. I will get my LEGO Minifigure cake mold and some fondant icing and I my son and I will make him smile. If he turns out to be Michaelblangelo, then at least we’ll have a cool name for him.