An artistic temperament?

Sadly, I am not artistic, but my children have at least a hope of having some talent because they stand to inherit a genetic predisposition to artistic abilities from both sides of their family tree. As illustrated by this morning's comments, Henry may have inherited an artistic ability, or at least an artistic temperament.  After his breakfast, Henry likes to draw on his easel (he prefers the natural morning light). This morning, preempting my daily tooth-brushing reminder...

Henry: Mommy, I will brush my teeth after I am done with my creation. Do not ask me to brush my teeth until I am done, please. If you interrupt my work to tell me to brush my teeth, then I will not be able to finish my creation.
Me: You have until I am done brushing Charlie's teeth to finish your CREATION. Then, it will be time for you to brush your teeth.
Henry: Mommy, when you talk, it interrupts me, and I cannot hear what the drawing is saying to me.
I place Charlie on the ground. He toddles towards the easel. Smile wide. Eyes sparkling with mischief. Broken crayon in sticky hand.
Henry: Mommy! Mommy, pick up Charlie. No, Charlie! Charlie respect my creation.  Charlie, respect my cre-a-tion!

Poor Henry, when will his genius be recognized? Must he suffer this bourgeois life?