by Chris Quaal Vinson
There is an unfinished portrait of me that hangs in our dining room. It was painted by my father, who was a great dad but definitely not a great portrait artist. I have written of this angry-looking alien baby before, and would never have mentioned her ever again, if it weren’t for my four-year-old grandson Max. Max has been having some bad dreams lately. Pretty typical for that age, but not fun. One would think this scary-looking portrait that hangs on my wall as a joke would be the stuff that nightmares were made of, but once I told him it was me, Max began to laugh.The content you are trying to access is only available to members. Sorry.