Andrew, the boy who lives down the block, came over again around three. Masha went out and talked with him a moment. Then I came out. He presented me with a necklace made of plastic tabs. I asked him where they were from. At first he seemed evasive and I realized that I hadn't thanked him yet properly, so I shook his hand, in the "brothers" shake. He grinned and said it was a necklace. I asked about materials used and techniques, (not using those big words though.) He finally admitted that they were from his speech class. I asked if they were grades or if they represented his level of achievement.
"First you do it then they give you one of those," he told me.
So they were records of his work. he gave me twelve of them. Four of each color: red, white and blue.
We talked about different kinds of fish. he knew several and about whether of not squid were fish. I know he wants to hang out and do things together.{}
making art is fun and talking about stuff. there probably is a theraputic need for me to, because of my own sense of loss. the only thing is that as I already have a bond of freindship with him, I can't just stop taking my medecine.

The first time i met him was on 4/26/2002
Sometimes Andrew rides down the street holding a flag in one hand and pedaling his bicycle as hard as he can. Together we built a structure of bamboo and wire that was to serve as a garage for a matchbox car. He said he missed his real mom. Something has infected his eyes. He weeps pus and has scabs. He says that it gets better when he gets his medicines. I notice that he has trouble focusing on small print or detailed objects but he recognized words quickly sometimes after only three letters. He said he would see his real mom tomorrow. He said that he was a foster child and we told him that was ok. We didn?t say why. But we looked at each other.