As I had said previously, mom would work with her models and I would sit and play. One day, she had a drawing that was particularly difficult. After the model left and then after being a mom all day, she continued working into the night. And into the next day and the next, trying to get it right. Finally it was done. She had made her deadline too. I guess I must have seen myself as an artist, or maybe a critic, because I thought some changes should be made. All the ink jars were open. The brushes were sitting there waiting to be picked up. I had been watching for all three years of my life. How hard could it be? So when she was out of the room, I took brush in hand, dipped it in the ink and ran it over the smooth paper. It must have felt good, because I did it again and again. Then mom came back in the room. What a devastating moment for her. The work was ruined. But she never yelled at me. I can’t imagine what was going thru her mind. What do you tell a client? Something akin to “my dog ate my homework”? Working with a child at home was a challenge, but she figured out a creative solution. She set up a little table for me next to her own. We each had our jars of paint and the choice of many brush sizes. The models would come and change into a beautiful gowns. Mom would help get them in just the right pose and we would both get to work.