And while we're grateful for that, I didn't realize exactly how grateful I would be until we got to the gallery.
Because imagine paying $4,000 and coming to this show to see your daughter's comic of her attempting to kill her own mother.
Or the one about the teenage girl using chopped up body parts to fertilize her rose garden.
What the actual hell???
I mean if you're seriously contemplating poisoning your own mother simply because she asked you to turn off a video game, maybe you should just keep that $#!+ to yourself. Or better yet - see somebody about that.
There were plenty of other lovely things on display, but of course I was partial to one.
Punk's work, was pure Punk. Among his work-in-progress gallery/graded pieces(they weren't allowed to color or erase):a two-page story about a deer dealing with the guilt of being tricked into eating a cheeseburger; a three-pager about a very Rico-esque super-hero who decides that villains have more fun;
and a four page piece that harkened back to his pre-school days.
It was my favorite because it was full of his heart. Between his decade-long obsession with all thing Oz, his desire to stand-up for the underdog, and his struggle to hold onto magic as he grew up. All at once it broke my heart and made me so proud to be his mother - so grateful to share this life with him.
Forget about the praise he got from his professors. Forget about the way people stop to linger over his work. Forget about the mess that is his dorm room.
"I'm your friend, that's who I am. Come on, I'll walk you home."
That's who my kid is.
That's my favorite part.