When the credits roll on the original Ice Age (2002), something delightful happens. Instead of the usual static text, colorful crayon drawings of Manny, Sid, and Diego parade across the screen—stick figures with wobbly lines and that unmistakable charm of children's art. These weren't created by professional artists trying to mimic kid-style drawings. They were the real deal: actual artwork made by the children of Blue Sky Studios employees.

The animators who spent months perfecting the film's characters handed the reins to their kids for this final touch. The result? A credit sequence that feels warm, authentic, and surprisingly touching after an adventure about unlikely friendships.

When a Professional Can't Draw Badly Enough

Here's where it gets even better. Remember that scene where Sid draws a hilariously awful self-portrait on a cave wall? The story artist working on that sequence hit a wall—literally. He couldn't make his drawing look authentically terrible. His years of training kept getting in the way.

So he consulted an expert: his colleague Dan Shefelman's 3-year-old son, Will. The toddler's masterpiece became Sid's cave art. A professional artist was too skilled to draw like a sloth, so they outsourced to someone who actually drew at a sloth's level.

A Tradition That Stuck

The idea worked so well that Blue Sky Studios made it a tradition. Ice Age: The Meltdown (2006) continued the practice, once again featuring drawings from employees' children during the credits. It became part of the franchise's identity—a reminder that these massive film productions are still made by people with families, kids who probably begged to see the movie before anyone else.

The approach also solved a creative problem. End credits are notoriously boring. Most people leave theaters or stop watching at home. But these drawings gave audiences a reason to stay, turning a throwaway moment into something memorable.

Why It Works

There's something perfect about letting kids illustrate a movie that's ultimately about found family and protecting a child. The rough, unpolished drawings mirror the film's themes—imperfect characters forming something beautiful together.

Plus, imagine being one of those kids. Your scribbly drawing of a woolly mammoth appears in a film seen by millions worldwide. That's the kind of thing you brag about for life. "See that wonky sabre-toothed tiger? I made that when I was five."

Blue Sky Studios didn't need to do this. They could've created slick, professional credit sequences. Instead, they chose authenticity and heart. They let their artists' kids contribute to film history, one crayon at a time.

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