My dad's phone is full of my children's drawings. Along the bottom of this one, in Chinese, he's written: the big rooster Zachary drew with watercolor markers on July 19, 2025. The date. Whose it is. What they used. What it is. It looks like a quick snapshot. It isn't. Here is what actually happens. He carries the drawing to the brightest part of the house. Before he shoots, he's already decided how much he's going to write and where it needs to sit, so he frames the photo wi

Most advice about children's artwork stops at the same place: how to store it all. Photograph it, box it, send it away, get a book back. Those are good answers, and we'll come to them. But storing it is only half the question. Once the drawings are safe, you're left with a folder of images, usually without the stories that went with them, and a feeling that they should be doing something. This is a piece about that part. Start with one question How many pieces do you actually

My son drew this. It's called Macaroon 5. Take a second and decide what you think is going on. If you're anything like me, you went straight to the band. Five macarons, a name that sounds like Maroon 5, a big one in sunglasses out front like a lead singer. Clever kid. Here's what he actually said about it: "Macaroons are so yummy. Just picture 5 of them, it's even better!" He'd heard the band name somewhere, and it gave him a shape for the title. But that wasn't the point. Ma

My son's friend loses a lot of things. He's a smart, sweet kid, and a completely typical middle schooler, which is to say he has left a trail of belongings across our neighborhood. Water bottles, jackets, the occasional thing his parents would rather he hadn't lost. A while back he'd lost another water bottle, and my son said something like, "what do you even not lose? Anything except your pixyit lunch box." His friend just grinned. Clearly this was old news between them. It

This is written for children's museums, but the same model works for camps, art schools, after-school programs, libraries, and community centers. If that's you, read "museum" loosely. Every conversation about earned revenue for children's museums lands in the same place: budgets are tighter, grant cycles are less predictable, and the staff who'd handle something new are already wearing four hats. Meanwhile the expectation keeps rising. Do more for families. Show impact. Find

We were in Portland a few weeks ago, a city so creative that even the trash cans are painted, when a stranger stopped my husband to ask about his sneakers. He didn't just say thanks and keep walking. He pulled out his phone and showed them pixyit.com, because those sneakers came from our son's own drawing, printed on the pair he wears every single day. And of all places, in a city where art is on every corner, the thing that made someone stop was a drawing by a 10-year-old.

Zoey drew this at age 7. Her grandpa wears it in the kitchen. She wears it to school. Strangers buy it too. My daughter drew a stick figure at age 7. She called it "Love". She said she loves her family. That drawing is now on aprons, jackets, and tees. Her grandpa wears it in the kitchen. She wears it on her jacket to school. And strangers, people who have never met her, buy it too. It is her highest earning drawing on pixyit. I tell this story because parents often ask me th

Every scribble, splash of color, and imaginative drawing from a child holds a special story. These pieces of art are more than just paper and paint - they are expressions of creativity, joy, and growth. As someone who deeply values the magic behind children’s artwork, I’ve found that transforming kids' artwork into meaningful gifts is a wonderful way to celebrate their creativity and share it with loved ones. It’s a heartfelt way to preserve memories and create keepsakes that