Art Therapy. Or possibly, Art: Therapy?

Margaret has been getting better and better and better at drawing.  Also, I just had to type "better" seven separate times to get it right.  It kept having either three ts or only one, or -- in one particularly bad instance it didn't have any, and it ended in -ir.  But I have recovered, and am able to get back to the subject at hand.

Which is Margaret's drawing.

She's been using a set of Mr. Sketch markers, which I remember fondly from my childhood.  The ones that smelled like candy?  And people used to accidentally color their nostrils trying to sniff them?  Anyway, she's been really enjoying them, and her drawings are now recognizable.

Here is a self-portrait:

And this one is clearly of the time she went to a chainsaw massacre at a commercial kitchen (it's the chef's hat that gives me the clue.  She's been to so many chainsaw massacres, that it's hard to keep track).

I'm sure that this is just a healthy part of her self-expression, and she's perfectly fine.  We'll go with that.