An idea that cannot be drawn with these ten pieces is not yet understood. Draw it until it can be. The drawing is for remembering; the sentence under it is for being right.
A blob. One crayon, ink outline, colour past the line. Three shapes exist (a, b, c); rotate or flip them, never draw a fourth.
A dotted line. Round dots, a gap of about twice the stroke, never quite straight. It means these two have to do with each other, nothing more.
A relation with an open arrowhead: two strokes, never a filled triangle. It means this, then that or this causes that. The claim says which.
Handwriting inside the thing. One to three words, lowercase. Ink on light crayons, paper on dark ones. A thing without a name is not in the drawing.
A promise is either delivered or it is not.
One sentence in type, under the drawing. The only place a fact lives. If the drawing and the claim disagree, the claim is right and the drawing is redrawn.
Handwriting in the margin, bear-brown, tilted one to three degrees. An aside, never a fact. At most one per thing.
Roman numerals in type, under or beside things, only when order matters. Counting is a grown-up act; the numerals are never handwritten.
A thing that was, with one red crayon line through it. Never erased: a struck thing is part of the story. The only use of red inside a drawing.
A dotted ring around several things. It is a relation, so it is dotted, never solid. A group can have a name; it cannot have a colour.
The sun, top right. It means the drawing describes something that shipped, not a plan. A drawing without a sun is a promise.
We do not start building until the client has read the list.
Every tool on the roof belongs to exactly one offering.
The invoice is sent after the check passes, never before.