I watched as Equis pushed his hand into the orange bowl full of Crayola finger paint and brought it up, sopping wet, to his canvas--several pieces of paper that I'd taped to our hallway wall.
He didn't complain about the mess on his fingers nor did he whine and point to the paint that had dripped onto his pants. He used his hands even though I'd provided him with paint brushes.
For a kid who has trouble accepting certain kinds of sensory input, finger painting is a big deal, and my heart burned with pride because my son always has something new to teach me.
I have a lot to learn from him in terms of conquering my fears: if my son can do that which once terrified him, then I should be able to too.
This post is also linked to You Know You're a Mom When...