.....um. Or is it?
As you see, some....thing (again with no feet), wearing black pants up to her stick-armpits, minus hands and/or fingers (note Husband and Ethan both have fingers extending from their identifiable arms), wearing no top and apparently having been shocked by something (or yelling, perhaps more likely, asking "where the hell is my shirt???!!!), has found its way into Ethan's family portrait. And I'm sorry, but what exactly is that line coming down between my legs? Am I really a cross with a yelling head on it?
Bless his wonderful sweet little heart, I love that boy. But this picture, and my late arrival to it, is a therapist's dream. Husband's wearing no pants, I'm wearing no top. Husband is smiling (of course, he's not wearing any pants!) and I'm yelling. None of us have feet, I have no hands or fingers, but I *might* have a penis. Oy.