One bi-product of Will entering the literate world is how much he loves to write and sketch.  I bought him a notebook.  He sketches and writes in what, I'm sure, is his very own graphic novel (comic book).  I'm proud of him. 

Last evening the Will/Gigi relationship was at a low point.  Both kids were seperated until they could behave.  I noticed as I passed Will's door that there were scraps of paper in front of it.  I picked up one.

"I'm in here."  It said.  I crumpled it up and threw it in the trash.  Minutes later I passed by again.  Another piece of paper was on the floor.

"Help me."  It said.  I shook my head and threw it in the trash.  Later I passed the door again.  I saw a third scrap of paper.

"I'm here and I want help."  It said.

"Will!"  I hollered through the door.  "I don't know who you think is reading these 'Help Me' notes, but I'm the only one home.  That means, your prison guard is reading these and I'm not inclined to help!"

Silence from the other side of the door.  A while later I passed by his shut door.  A larger piece of paper was now out in front of the door.  I looked at it.  A drawing of a mother hugging a child and several large hearts were on the paper with the words "I love you Mommy.  You are the best!"  I smiled. 

He really is a sweet little boy, I thought.  Just as I was about to open the door a scrap of paper was pushed out from underneath.  I opened it and read "Now can I get out?"

Sneaky.