Why I Never Considered Myself an "Artist" Growing Up

More...umm...well, stuff from my box. This time, it's salt dough!

A collection of...what? Looks like Calvin has been here. Hordes of zombie snow men. Melting, deformed, sad-faced snowmen.
(I think I'm seeing more than one artist here...if I had to guess, this is, clockwise from the top, LoLo (very angular), Uncle T (very young!), me (rounded, organic), Mom (look at that perfectly pinched hat brim: she's a perfectionist), and Uncle R (green and blue. ALWAYS green and blue.)

Did we have some sort of crazy, salt-dough, family activity? Or was this a relic from our homeschooled art course?)

Little Boy Blue...your heads on sideways. Inexplicably, you seem to be made of paper clips unwound, and formed into some sort of "running man" skeleton.

And did you know you shouldn't be bending like that? 15 years in a crawl space will do that to a dough boy, I guess. This boy, I have to admit, DOES look like it has my "mark" on it. (Am I the only one that can see my particular way of doing things in every letter I write and picture I draw? It's hard to explain, but LoLo's work is always more angular, mine more round.)

Hello. You look like...a slug. Or maybe that freaky cloud guy from Mario Kart. Did I create you? Dad?? This looks like one of your "get out of art quick" masterpieces :) Wait, if it was Dad's, it would be a duck...I'm stumped. Little rainbow slug, who made you?