My Son, The Sculptor....



I woke up this morning to find Bryan's Goliath beetle dead on the dining table.

Being a child with Autism meant Bryan was slow in most milestones.... when he was 3 he still couldn't quite talk yet when other kids his age chatted away, he didn't and still can't catch a ball with his hands because some of his gross motor skills are still shot, he hates writing and can't really hold on to a pencil for long because his fine motor abilities are still playing catch up. Whatever he couldn't or still can't do, he makes it up with something else... his has an excellent memory (he is my real-life GPS device) and he loves sculpting. No, not with Play-Doh, which he dislikes (and thinks they're for kids)... but with Blu-Tack.... Hard, tough, putty. He loves the kneading pressure which calms him. He takes a big lump with him, rolls it out into a big elongated piece... with his foot and the Blu-Tak against the floor before he starts his sculpting.
He still takes it to Catechism and to church and without looking at his piece of dark, grey and dirty piece of poo (I'd like to call it that), he'll create figurines and fantasy creatures. As a parent, I never thought much of it until parishioners come up to me after mass and said how intrigued they are of his special "skill".
Who knows, maybe one day, someday someone will notice him and hopefully he'll be able to see his weird but wonderful creations made into plastic toys!