This weekend our local school system held its biennial art fair, a celebration of the efforts and creations of students of music and art from all age groups. I had one or two drawings on display in my junior year, though two decades later I no longer remember which ones. My wife and I were pleased to learn that my son, now in his final month of high school, would have several pieces on display this year. We made a point of checking out the fair not just for the sake of parental beaming, but because we knew this might be our last chance to view his works.
Behold the author at age two, picture taken by a professional photographer circa 1974. To this day I can’t believe my mom agreed to pay for copies. I do understand the parental compulsion to save memories and moments of our offspring’s precious childhoods. Judging by my scornful expression, I gather this was a day in my life better off forgotten. I’d hate to see the rejected takes.
I would be remiss in my comics fandom if I didn’t take a moment to plug the heck out of the twelfth annual 
Midlife Crisis Crossover! 