Artful Monday--G.O.T. edition

Welcome to Artful Monday where-in I take my set of 128 crayolas (with the sharpener in the back) and attempt to re-create for you a scene from the previous week that struck me. Note that I didn't say, "struck me AS COOL" or "struck me as SMART". Just...struck me. From this effort, you can glean the following:

1). Sometimes when I forget to charge my ipod or bring a book, I am stuck with nothing AT ALL to do while I have to pump milk besides drumming my fingers and pondering the set of 128 crayons I have in my desk for no apparent reason.
2). psh, I lie. There is a reason: I like to color.
3). I am judgmental.

This week's scene is brought to you courtesy of Game of Thrones (THE BOOK) which I just spent the last 10 days reading and the male fantasy author's obvious lack of consulting La Leche League. In a fairly depressing tome, it's the one thing that made me laugh out loud.

Warning: SPOILERS AHEAD... wait, you know what? This book has been out for, like, a decade, and there's an cable series, plus, you probably don't care. Also, if you are in the process of reading it currently and you haven't figured out that the phrase "WAKE THE DRAGON" gets repeated about 627 times in an eight hundred page book, I can't help you. Here's where I save you two weeks worth of reading and a subscription to HBO.

Anyway, so at the end of this book, lots of people die and there's this big funeral pyre and there are dragon eggs and a batshit crazy lady and in the very final scene, this lady has managed to hatch some widdle baby dragons and what does she do? She breastfeeds them. Dragons. On her boobs. Man. Don't you know that teething phase is going to be a bitch?

So here is my interpretation of the final scene in Game of Thrones. You're welcome.