Wild Crayola Kingdom

This afternoon I decided to set my three year old up with some pens and paper so I could get my kitchen cleaned. By the way, cleaning a kitchen with an 11 month old on the loose is a little like rowing a boat with one oar.
In a whirlpool.
(whose idea was it anyway to have a designated Tupperware drawer within reach of a baby? It seemed like every house Ive been to that had kids, had a Tupperware drawer. And since I had a drawer that was full of knives, I converted it to a Tupperware drawer. Dumbest thing in the world. My kitchen now looks like the dishwasher threw up everywhere. All. The. Time. But thats a whole other story)
Anyways, I get the kitchen cleaned up (minus the floor, ahem.) and I put the baby in the high chair with some cheerios and Im watching my three year old draw. He takes requests even. So I suggest he draw a picture of his family.
"Okay!" He says enthusiastically. And he starts off with a big ass circle on the page. "This is your big humongous head."
Um. Thanks. Then he draws three other smaller heads. Whatever. I wont even go into how he drew my feet bigger than my husbands. I guess it could have been worse. I did appreciate the understated stick body he gave me. =)
He then finishes his drawing and holds it up to show me. I gush and tell him how wonderful it is and then he suggests we "Magnet it up on the fridge." But on his way he stops to show the baby.
And things get ugly from there.
He held his picture a little too close to the baby and like a crocodile who has been waiting in the water all afternoon for the unknowing Gazelle that stopped to take a drink, he sprung. Tiny fingers clamped down on the picture with no mercy. Cue in pissed off wind up.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh. LET GO!"
I jumped up and tried to stop him from pulling his picture away. After all you know that unsuspecting Gazelle wasn't successful at pulling his leg out of the mouth of the croc. Oh no. Big mess. But I didnt get there in time. The picture ripped. The pieces floated to the floor in slow motion. We all stood there for what seemed an eternity looking at the carnage, before my sons face scrunched up and he kicked the picture away, disowned it and stormed off.
I did tape the picture back together and "magnet it up on the fridge." We'll see if he acknowledges it or not. I fear it may be too little too late.
But my kitchen is clean! ;)
(except for the plastic roadkill on the floor)