We went to Andrew's Little Picasso class this morning at an old elementary school. I always love going to this weekly class mainly because I love to see Andrew in the physical setting. The first day we went, he walked in with his little Cars backpack and he had this funny little confident grin as he bounced down the hallways. I had this vision of him 13 years from now, striding down the halls of his high school, smiling and happy (he will not be an angry, brooding teenage boy).
Anyway, Andrew is not terribly interested in the painting and usually gets his work done pretty quickly, but it is still fun. His teacher is particularly interesting to me. She only lacks a cigarette between her lips to complete the image of a grumpy older woman with personal problems who dislikes kids. Andrew is her second least favorite student. He doesn't mind. He can't understand a word she says; he just wants to know where her nursers are (she is anorexic).
So while Andrew was engaged in Pointilism, Will started walking around the classroom. He could take between 5 and 10 steps before he would fall, but he was so proud. He will be totally independent soon.
Will also participated in the painting today. He was not content to just stay in my arms and watch. He stretched and whined until I gave him a little q-tip. Repeat stretch and whine until I help him dip q-tip in the paint and then let him go for it on the paper. The look on his face was priceless. Just a huge grin. He was even prouder of himself for painting than for walking.
I wish I had photos and that I knew how to get them on the computer.