Art's not about what you make. It's about what you become as you make it.

Dakody was very quiet as he sat on the porch waiting for his mother to arrive. His shirt was buttoned, his pants were clean, his hair was neat, and on his lap was his Art 101 Artist Kit. Sharon was in the kitchen, pretending she wasn't watching him. The summer was over, and Teresa was taking him home.

Just a few months ago, Dakody would have been digging up the garden, or throwing rocks at the mailbox. Today, he was pulling out the colored pencils and the pencil sharpener and drawing a little cartoon. The watercolor cakes weren't messy, the ruler and protractor were neatly stacked, even the oil pastels were in order and ready to use.

Of course, Teresa's car was a disaster, full of old papers and empty cups. But when she opened the door, Dakody went running, dropping the crayons everywhere so he could give her a hug. Sharon stepped outside and gathered them up. It was the least a Granny could do.

"You been mindin' your Granny?" Teresa asked. Dakody nodded, holding back a grin. Teresa pulled him close.

"He was a little gentleman," said Sharon. "He can stay any time."

A few pleasantries and the pair were off, Teresa in the driver's seat and Dakody kicking a space through the old bags and coffee-stained napkins on the passenger side floor. Sharon went back inside, to the quiet house, the clean rugs, the single bowl and cup after dinner... and the Art 101 Artist Kit, neatly placed in the center of the coffee table, next to a drawing of a young man sitting quietly on a front porch.

Sharon marched it right to the refrigerator. In the morning, she'd go out and buy a frame.

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