That's my kid.
Like I said. My kid.
Art in motion. Notice the concentration of paint in the lower right corner (from his perspective). I don't know if it's easier for his weaker-than-average muscles or just visually simpler, but I've been trying to get him to see the page as a whole. He's starting to get it. His paintings often fan out from that familiar point, but he's expanding his painterly horizons.
Sliding solo is scary. We slide down double slides holding hands until he relaxes and goes it alone.
Another important Damian task: punching down the risen bread dough. Jami watches in the background. He used to quote from In The Night Kitchen as he worked: "He kneaded and punched it and pounded and pulled." Those quirky quotations have nearly vanished, replaced with occasional whispers but nearly always his own words. So he works now in silence, but he still does punch and then pinch ("pull"). Unspoken echoes. The memory of his echolaliac quoting will always be bittersweet. Using someone else's words because he couldn't find his own. Someday he'll talk about punching and pulling, recast in his own words. I look forward to that day.
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copyright 2001 Tamar