“What does it mean that they drew everything in black?”
“Why do they draw themselves so small?”
“Is it normal that they always draw monsters?”
These are questions parents often ask me.
Most of the time, there is the same fear underneath:
“Is the drawing telling me that something is wrong with my child?”
My answer is almost always the same.
A drawing does not give a diagnosis.
But it can open an important conversation.
Children speak before they have the words
We adults are used to explaining.
Children are not.
They build, play, draw and invent stories.
This is their natural language.
Sometimes a child cannot say:
“I feel lonely.”
But they draw a very large house and a very small person.
Another child does not say:
“I am afraid.”
But they fill the page with monsters.
Or they draw a locked door.
This does not mean the drawing should be read literally.
It means we may want to become curious.
There is no dictionary of drawings
I wish there were a simple list.
The sun in the corner means this.
The tree means this.
Red means this.
It would be convenient.
But the psyche does not work that way.
The same symbol can mean completely different things to two children.
A dragon may be a favourite character for one child.
For another, it may represent fear.
For another, strength.
The image cannot be understood separately from the child who made it.
That is why, before I interpret a drawing, I prefer to ask:
“Will you tell me about what you drew?”
Often, the child becomes the best interpreter of their own image.
I am more interested in the process than the result
Sometimes parents show me a drawing and ask what I notice.
I also pay attention to something else.
How does the child begin?
Do they draw with confidence or keep erasing?
Do they stop often?
Do they look at me to see if they are doing it right?
Do they change the story as they go?
Do they tear the page if they do not like it?
Or do they simply enjoy the process?
All of this can sometimes tell us as much as the drawing itself.
Because a drawing is not only an image.
It is an experience.
Children draw more than what they see
They also draw what they feel.
Sometimes they draw things they do not understand yet.
At other times, they draw things the adults around them have not noticed.
Quite often, a child expresses family tensions through a drawing without being able to name them.
Not because they are trying to send a hidden message.
But because the psyche naturally finds this way to express itself.
Children have an extraordinary ability to turn emotions into images.
Adults often lose it.
Not every “strange” drawing is a warning sign
I remember how quickly some parents become frightened when they see a drawing with monsters, blood or characters fighting.
But children also explore the world through imagination.
They play with fear.
With power.
With good and evil.
With death.
With transformation.
All of this can be part of their development.
A drawing cannot be taken out of context and turned into a conclusion about a child.
I want to know whether the drawing appeared once or many times.
How the child talks about it.
What the child is like in the rest of their life.
How they play.
How they relate to others.
How they feel.
Only then can a wider picture begin to take shape.
Sometimes the drawing helps parents too
Something interesting can happen.
While we talk about the child’s drawing, the parent begins to talk about their own childhood.
About their own fears.
About their own expectations.
Then I realise that the drawing is not speaking only about the child.
It also speaks about the relationship between the child and the adult.
Sometimes what frightens the parent most is not the drawing.
It is what the drawing wakes up in them.
That is why I do not like to “read” drawings
I do not think a psychologist should look at a drawing for two minutes and say:
“Your child has problem X.”
That seems unfair to the complexity of a child.
A drawing is only one piece of a much larger puzzle.
Alongside play.
Stories.
The relationship with the parents.
The child’s development.
What we observe together over time.
Psychology is not fortune-telling.
It is a process of understanding.
What can parents do?
Perhaps the most valuable thing is also the simplest.
Instead of asking:
“What did you draw?”
they can ask:
“Will you tell me about your drawing?”
The difference may seem small.
But the first question looks for a correct answer.
The second opens a world.
And when children feel truly listened to, they often surprise us with the depth of their answers.
I do not believe children’s drawings hide secrets that only psychologists can decode.
I believe they are an invitation.
An invitation to enter their inner world with more patience and fewer conclusions.
And this may be one of the most important ways an adult can meet a child.