I've always had a love for good pencils. It goes back to my youth when I wanted to become a comic book artist. Last night, I realized my youngest son had found his pencil.
I was working with the boys on their schoolwork last night, and Roo was moving very slowly through his math work. He was writing very slowly and I thought he was just taking his sweet time in getting the work done.
As I looked a bit closer (I had been sitting at my wife's desk about ten feet away), I realized that he was struggling with a stub of a pencil. I watched for a couple moments and noticed he was having problems gripping the pencil.
Getting up, I moved over to his desk to see what was going on, and I found that he was struggling with the Blackwing 602 I'd given him a week ago. It now was a two and a half inch stub of a pencil with the eraser used up so it was flat with the ferrule. At this point, I said nothing to see what he'd do.