This doodle-daddle turned acrylic-on-colored pencil-on-crayon was part of our Daft Punk Craft-a-thon on Saturday. I'm always keen on a thumbs up, but after starring for a few days, I was reminded of my father. When we were younger and asked him any sort of 'yes' or 'no' question ("Dad, can I quit band?" "Dad, can Alicia spend the night?"), he always said he'd ask the thumb. Then his thumb became a separate creature. It was an uncontrollable being outside of his hand. It would have escaped if it wasn't so...attached. His fist would start to shake like the girl with a spoon full of Jello in Jurassic Park. BUT HIS SHOOK WAY MORE. It would rattle back and forth horizontally as it was trying to decide our fate: yay or nay. Up or down. We waited anxiously, knowing it was probably a thumbs down. There'd be no reason to stall delivering jovial news. Sometime it was a yes; and for that we celebrated by ditching band and taking up slumber parties.