Cultivating a Doodler

As my oldest daughter, Becky
Was growing up,
She became the consummate doodler
Drawing on everything in sight.
No stray paper or pad
Stood a chance
Against her onslaught.

I didn’t always appreciate
Her artistic abilities though,
Especially the time
She took lipstick
And autographed a set
Of unfinished furniture
I had been working on.

We used to dine out a lot
And everywhere we would go
Becky would commence to decorate
The table napkin,
Drawing queens in lavish dresses
And ladies in fancy hairstyles
Intricate patterns and floral arrangements.

Quite a number of times
The waiter or waitress would see
Her doodles there
And ask if they could keep them
Sure that someday
Becky was bound to be famous
For her oodles of doodles.

Of all her artistic surfaces
Some of the strangest I think
Were the bottom of my feet.
I could lie there for hours
While she doodled away
With intricate designs and colors
That disappeared on taking a shower.

Now what does one do
With such a talent?
What kind of encouragement
Could I provide?
Well, we developed a game
We played for years
At every restaurant we visited.

I would draw a part
Of something, often obvious
And it was her challenge
To turn it into something else
Incorporating my design
Into something totally unexpected.
The more outlandish, the better!

I would draw part of the salt shaker
And she might turn it into
A crocodile, a dancer on a stage.
Her imagination was wild,
Each time she drew something different.
I never knew what to expect,
But that is how I cultivated a doodler!