Spackle & Patch

I decided I really need to go back and fill in some of the cracks and holes in this blog. So, I just finished up a bit of site repair and filled in some of those neglected spots with a few old posts I'd been sitting on for no apparent reason. (I mean, other than reasons like...hitting the spellcheck button seemed too exerting, or the post had no ending, or I fell asleep instead, or something.)

But -- voila! I deemed them "complete" and posted them.

Where can you find these virtual spackle & patch editions? Just scroll back.

Or, if you prefer, use this handy dandy guide:

1. We saw chicks.
2. Siblings had issues, part seventy-two.
3. We went to the zoo.
4. Max went to another zoo.
5. Max got a swimsuit.
6. We went on vacation. (In progress)

There are a few other posts that I'll be finishing up and adding in real time, because they didn't seem chronologically significant. (So if you notice Max's teeth randomly falling out and re-appearing, or his hair growing with bizarre speed, don't be concerned.) It'll all work out in the end.

The Amish Zoo

Max's grandparents took him on a field trip to a slightly different kind of zoo this week.

For lack of a better term, we call it "the Amish Zoo." It's a small, family-owned zoo on a local farm, and it's run by the Amish family that lives there. Family members of all ages are involved with the day-to-day operations -- there are children driving the horse & cart, handing out bags of feed for visitors to purchase, and helping to answer questions or provide assistance as needed, right alongside the adults.

It's an interesting little place. And it's funny to think that the novelty of it all for us is just another day on the farm to them. (It's also funny to imagine how happy and industrious Max might be if he lived there. Perhaps there is a lesson to be had here? - Noted!)

Much of the place is one big hands-on, petting zoo area. There are bunnies and fawns and goats to touch and feed and watch.

There was also an area where Max could try his hand at milking a (wooden) cow.

It's a lot easier to just open the fridge.

Max enjoyed ambling along in the cart while watching the animals roam.

(I wonder what the age difference is between these two boys...)

And then they got off the cart, right in the midst of those gentle creatures, with a bag of treats to share. I think the animals were almost as friendly and curious as Max was!

"Good afternoon, Mr. Goat! May I offer you a small amuse-bouche?"

There are fenced-in areas of the zoo, too, and Max & Grandpa made sure the animals in those parts were offered some treats, as well.

Feeding goats is a very ticklish business.

...But the goats were still the most fun!

Slow down, everyone -- there's plenty to go around.

There were a few exotic animals, too. Max was especially excited to see a tiger, as the memory of his last tiger encounter was still fresh in his mind....but that encounter was still fresh in Grammy's mind, too, so they quickly moved on!

No way, Jose!! This pacing tiger is NOT your old friend...and this fence is NOT sturdy Plexiglas. Keep walking!

They wisely decided to stick with the GOATS...

Hand sani-- oops, I mean FACE sanitizer, please!

...which seemed to be a VERY WISE decision, indeed!

*Shakes head in disbelief* (That boy.......sometimes I really am just speechless.)

Wordless Wednesday: Summer Sprinkler Fun

Is Summer School Really Worth It?

In our school system, summer school is an option offered to most Special Ed students.

(Now that I typed that first sentence, I realize I'm not entirely sure how accurate it is. I do know that Max has always qualified, but I also know that I have pushed & encouraged & requested it during each end-of-year IEP meeting. I also know that when he was still in preschool, summer classes were definitely NOT readily offered or approved and I had to get rather adamant about including him....but I'm assuming that full-day elementary school kids don't have to do much to get in. I suppose it is possible that The Powers That Be simply put some special code by my son's name that means "his mom will push for as much school as possible, so just go ahead and stick his name on the list." I really don't know.)

But here's what I DO know: I argue strongly for it every time, but then I question how worthwhile it really is and even OPT OUT of sessions in the end.

That sounds completely ridiculous, I know. But what sounds good in theory just doesn't always pan out in reality.

Max does wonderfully in school. He thrives on the routine, he enjoys the social component, he is happy to be there, he makes clear and consistent progress throughout the year.

BUT!

Summer school? That's an entirely different creature.

The setting is different, the schedule is different, the faces are different, the "routine" is so scattered and widely-spaced that it never quite takes, and, quite frankly, I can't really see evidence of progress on our end of the thing.

Our summer school is offered in two different sessions, each lasting two weeks, held on two days. Read that carefully, because what initially sounds like 4 full weeks of summer school is actually only 8 mornings. And that's if your child attends both sessions.

In our particular case, we will be gone on vacation during the second week of Session 2, so we opted out of the entire second session. That means summer school for Max lasts a grand total of...four mornings.

Now, if those four mornings were back-to-back during a single week, it would be wonderful. But for a kid who sleeps poorly, eats poorly, and falls apart quickly when his routine is so disrupted, four mornings spread out over 2 weeks is actually kind of awful.

Why did we sign him up? Well, that's easy: Max is the type of kid who would benefit from an extended year program. Furthermore, I want to get him out of the house, with his peers, learning and playing in an appropriate and educational environment. I sign up because I don't want him to regress every single summer!! I sign up because I want the school system to see that there is a need for this type of service, thereby ensuring that they will continue to offer it.

We go into it knowing that along with the benefits will come some costs, and we choose to accept a certain number of negative consequences.

I wish I had more positive things to say about summer school. Oh, how I wish! But I don't.

Max just finished this year's round of summer school and it didn't go very well from our perspective.

Monday, my husband drove him there. (We originally signed up for bus transportation, but when we realized the pick-up time would be 7:10 a.m., we decided it would be easier on Max if he could sleep in a little longer. So, our plan was for my husband to drop him off on the way to work.) That plan didn't work well. Max was resistant to getting dressed, reluctant to leave the house, hesitant to enter the unfamiliar school building, and then had a full melt-down about going into his classroom. There was finally a familiar classroom aide who took him and my husband slipped out around 8:20am. School started at 8:00, so the time saved by sleeping in was then wasted on tantruming. And my husband was late to work. (And really, really frustrated.)

We quickly arranged to put Max's name back on the bus list. The bus really is an important part of the school routine for him. When he sees it pull up in front of the house, he knows exactly what's happening next and that predictability is comforting. He loves the driver, enjoys the ride, and definitely benefits from the cue the bus provides. Even with the early morning hour, we decided it was worth it after all.

So on the second school day, we got up at 6:30am so Max would have time for a nice hot shower, and semi-leisurely dressing and breakfasting. The morning went pretty smoothly, though he refused to eat a thing (no surprise there). And then the bus came at 8:00. To take him to his 8:00 class.

I'm not terribly uptight about schedules; I'm not worried about 10 minutes here or there, even though it does make the morning bus time somewhat unpredictable. On the other hand, 50 minutes is completely ridiculous.

I don't know what time the bus arrived at school, but obviously it was very late.

Max came home all wound up, excited about the bus (and probably happy with his school experience),...but also kind of wild and edgy and, most certainly, hungry. Bouncing back from a morning twist like summer school takes a long time for Max. He stays a little "off" all day, and we basically factor in a certain amount of uncooperativeness, overstimulation, neediness, etc. for those days.

And then when it all happens again 2 days later (just when we're back on track!)...well, the better part of the week is kind of a bust.

We got the bus figured out, and they came at a more reasonable and predictable time the last 2 days of school, so Max could sleep in a little bit longer. But here's the thing that absolutely killed me: both of those mornings, he slept right through the alarm and the noise and the door creaking and the footsteps leaving him all alone in bed. We had to wake him up.

For the FIRST TIME IN 9 MONTHS, HE SLEPT IN! ALONE!! IN HIS OWN ROOM. IN HIS OWN BED. This has been our goal since last August. And the day it finally happens? We wake him up.

I can't even tell you how frustrating that was; I seriously considered calling him in absent.

He came home grinning and waving at the bus. He told me had crackers at school. He brought home a stack of worksheets he had done. But that's literally all I know.

I don't know how big the class was. I don't know who his teacher was. I don't know what they worked on. I don't know if he wore pull-ups or underwear there. I don't know anything. The first day he came home with a note that said, "Max had a good day." And while that was comforting to know, since the part my husband experienced was terrible, that's just not enough.

I think if I wrote questions or sent requests for information, I would get some. But I also thought it would automatically come to me without a request. My kid is nonverbal. I'm not there. He rides the bus, so I don't drop him off or pick him up; there is no verbal exchange taking place at those times, no sizing up of the situation, no introductions or greetings, no first-hand knowledge of anything.

I know budgets are tight. I know staffing issues exist. I know I should be grateful for the program that does exist, instead of picking it apart and criticizing. But I really think there has to be a better way to do summer school for our kids.

I KNOW there would be a way to make it work better for my son.

I have asked about the possibility of sending him every day Mon-Thurs for ONE week only. (There is one group of kids meeting Mon/Wed, and another group of kids meeting Tues/Thurs. for those two-week sessions.) He would attend the same number of days (4), but it would be chronologically more predictable for him. This request was turned down; it would throw off the numbers, and his classmates would be completely different from day to day. (Both valid points.)

I asked about sending him all 4 days for TWO weeks, thus condensing his hours from two sessions into one session. This would keep his presence consistent & predictable throughout one entire session, so appropriate staffing could be arranged. And though his classmates would still alternate from day to day, there would be some overall consistency (kind of). This request was turned down, too. It was no surprise, but I still had to ask.

I get it. I really do see their side of things. I do!

But is anyone listening to our side?

Surely I'm not the only parent who finds the current schedule hard to work with. Surely my son isn't the only child who had difficulty adapting to it.

It just seems like there should be a way to make this work more effectively -- for BOTH sides of the program.

Ready to Work.

Max loves to be outside. He also loves to be a part of the action. Therefore, doing yard work is a good summer activity. (Not terribly efficient...but still good.)

Today Max's sister was working on a planting project. Max watched her put on an old t-shirt & pair of shoes, find a hat, and locate a pair of work gloves.

Then he disappeared for a while and came back out dressed to help:

A Classic.

He was quite pleased with himself and ran to her corner of the yard, shouting, "Hih-hee! Hih-hee!" ("Sissy! Sissy!") and grabbed a shovel to help. She loved it.

Max and his beloved "Hih-hee"

Signing Time Swimsuit

Max got a present from his Grammy today -- a new swimming suit with built-in floats. He was excited by the present to start with, but he got even more excited when he noticed the Body Glove logo on the front of the suit. He started exclaiming, "Signing Time!" because he thought it was the hand logo from his Signing Time videos.

He carried the suit around for a long time exclaiming repeatedly over the Signing Time hand, then he wore it for a while, and he even ended up sleeping with it in the bed beside him that night. It was about the biggest thrill $15 can buy! (Thank you, Grammy!)

Here's a short clip of him with his beloved suit.

I also like this clip because it's a good sample of Max's speech. Notice the irregularities? Most of the time his speech has dropped consonants, so "Signing Time" becomes "High-ee Eye," for example. But then he pronounces "present" with a hard "p" sound...only the other sounds get jumbled up and it comes out "puh-nay." And his pronunciation of "Grammy" varies wildly.

The other thing that is irregular is his level of comprehension. Sometimes it's clear that everything clicks immediately and he knows exactly what we're saying...and other times there is a mysterious blankness. It's never entirely clear if that blankness is due to the fact that he simply doesn't have a way to answer the question, or if he really does lose track of the conversation now and then. He's very smart, and surprises us all the time with his memory and comprehension...but the random black holes appear often enough to always keep us guessing.

Finally, notice his echoing at the end of the clip? Where he talks WITH me? He doesn't do that as much any more, but he used to a lot. (Here he realized what I was doing and he brought an end to that game quickly enough -- the present was way too exciting for me to be fooling around like that!)

That Time When He Broke the Glass Door & Nearly Got a Trip to Vegas

This past weekend was a rough one for Max, physically speaking.

He actually had a pretty good weekend, emotionally speaking. It's important for me to note that, because it really was a pretty mellow couple of days. Max wasn't trying to stir up trouble. Things just...happened.

We spent most of Friday outside, soaking up the sun and working in the yard. Part of the yard work involved moving a pile of bricks that was stacked right in the corner of the patio, just outside the back door. Max was in and out of the house all day long, and managed to avoid the bricks each time but one. He tripped over a single brick, barefoot, and got a cut right on the tip of his toe.

Ooof! Ouch!!

I did lots of scrubbing (and a quick pedicure!) on those dirty little summer feet, but there was just no good way to clean and wrap that wound! Have you ever tried to bandage a child's pinky toe? It doesn't really work.

After several failed attempts, I finally had a small turban of bandaids carefully fixed in place, and had Max sit and watched a movie to keep him quietly still.

After a bit, he came to me and pointed at his toe, saying, "Ouch!" The bandaids were off, and the entire flap of skin was gone. It made me wince to realize he had pulled it right off! I know it probably felt better that way, but I certainly didn't have the stomach to do that myself! (That's another of Max's quirks: his pain tolerance is quite high, but his tolerance for things like hangnails, jagged nails, and flaps of skin is quite low.)

So the next day was a little tricky because he was clearly more comfortable barefoot, but that left his feet quite vulnerable (and led to a few red polka-dotted trails around the house).

I tell you about the toe because we had been exclaiming over his injury all weekend ("What a way to start the summer!")...and also because his barefooted vulnerability became both extra-important and completely irrelevant on Sunday morning.

Sunday morning, Max was having a hard time starting his day. He wanted something, but couldn't tell us what, and wouldn't point or lead us to it or provide hints of any kind. He got increasingly frustrated, and so did my husband & I. We finally told the other kids to just take him outside and play, thinking the distraction, or change of scenery, or jumping on the trampoline would help center him.

He ran out the door after them, and in one last burst of anger, he BANGED the glass pane on the screen door really hard as he went out...and it shattered.

His hand went clear through the glass, and he kept right on going, flying barefoot down the step and right through the falling shards.

Was there silence? Was there screaming? I actually don't recall. I only remember the tinkling sound of all that shattering glass.

My husband got to him first, and whipped off Max's shirt (long-sleeved, thank goodness!) to survey the damage. His hand and forearm were already bleeding and there was one small piece of glass in the bottom of his foot, which he pulled out immediately. We couldn't tell right away how serious the cuts were, but there was a lot of blood and it certainly looked terrible.

My husband held Max's foot up in the air to slow the bleeding, and I held the shirt tightly around his arm. We yelled at the big kids with instructions to run around the house and unlock the front door, get paper towels, and CALL GRAMMY! (My mom is a retired nurse and lives minutes away; she is our own personal 911.)*

She arrived in record time and helped us assess the damage...which actually turned out to be surprisingly superficial! I thought for sure we would be heading to the E.R. for stitches, but there was no need.

My mom brought over an arsenal of medical supplies, and we washed and cleaned and medicated and bandaged his injuries. Max was a bit resistant, but once we told him the large pads and wraps were Grandpa's (left from his surgery incision care), then Max was into it. He kept saying "Pah-Ah" and "BIIIIIIG!" and pointing to his own back and nodding. He knew what they were for, and he loves to do anything just like grandpa!

Once Max was all cleaned up, we dressed him in long sleeves, long jeans, long socks, and soft shoes -- anything to add a little extra layer of protection for the rest of the day! He didn't want to wear shoes very long, but everything else stayed in place until bedtime despite the warm weather (which tells me he was hurting).

We were all a bit shaken by the event, and I still can't believe how incredibly lucky he was to avoid more serious injury. No deep cuts, no stitches needed, no arteries involved (Gah!!) -- nothing!

We aren't particularly lucky people. (In fact, my husband always says about me, "If it weren't for bad luck, you'd have no luck at all.")

Max, on the other hand, is gold. He has had so many close calls and unlikely saves in a variety of precarious situations.

Since starting this blog one year ago, I can point to incidents where he broke one window with a bat and another one with his hand, and only has a single small scar on his thumb as a result. (There was also the time when he very nearly ate a piece of glass in a situation where I did the breaking!) And in the 6 years prior to blogging, there were many other lucky breaks.

It's a wonder.

Once Max was safe, my husband & I were standing there, examining the mess and shaking our heads in amazement. After surveying the damage, he turned to me and said, "I think we should buy that kid a ticket to Vegas. All he needs is one quarter..."

Instead of buying that plane ticket, we opted to put a sizable chunk of money towards a brand new screen door. It's one with a permanent sturdy support bar across the middle, and tempered-glass SHATTERPROOF window panes. I think that's probably an even better way to play the odds. (Don't you?) After all, it's only the first week of summer.

*****

*Mom -- THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!

School's Out!

(Ooo, icy treats!)

Today was the last day of school. Max's bus driver had a big hug for him when she dropped him off today, along with popsicles for all the kids.

Max's teacher sent home some parting gifts as well, including these wacky glasses. (Remember last year's pair?)

Goober.

I'm ready to be done with the early morning rush and think Max is getting pretty tired in general -- he could use a few extra minutes of sleep each morning. But I think we're both gonna miss the structure those days provide for him.

And the meals! Oh, those lovely school lunches...I will miss them greatly. (If you have a kid who is a messy and distractable eater, and then throw in a few sensory issues on top of that, you know exactly what I mean.)

The end of school always brings with it a sense of satisfaction for me. We completed another year in the journey. Max successfully navigated the 1st grade classroom system, another set of skills has been gained, and progress continues.

Can Anybody Else Hear That Ticking Sound?

Tick - Tock. Tick - Tock. TICK. TOCK. TICK!! TOCK!!


Can anybody else hear that ticking sound, or is it just me? Today is the last full day of school before summer vacation begins. I really think the second hand of the countdown clock is even louder for me than it is for the kids.

Am I the only parent who is NOT ready for school to end? Am I the only one who visibly cringes at the thought of those lazy days of summer stretched endlessly before me?

No time to dwell -- (I can hardly hear myself think, anyway) -- the ticking's getting louder even as I type!

A Tiny Adventure: Chicks!

We stumbled across a great outing yesterday.

Slow & gentle hands....with firm support from daddy.

We were driving past a farm supply store and noticed the marquee announced "Chick Days!" I was completely hooked and insisted we return. I knew the kids -- Max, especially -- would like it.

There were several giant galvanized troughs filled with a variety of fluffy little chicks, and a sprinkling of ducklings thrown in as a bonus.

They were at the perfect level for viewing -- and touching!

The noise the chicks made was delightful -- loud, yet gentle. We all oohed & aahed and giggled as we watched them scurry around and then hunker down in sleepy heaps.

(One day she will understand why I comment on her nails. Heh.)

The kids enjoyed picking out their favorites and were thrilled to hold them.

Thrilled, I tell you!

Max could have stayed all afternoon, I think.

And now I must include a video clip here, because though the still photos are cute of the kids, they don't even begin to capture the cuteness that is a bin full of peeping chicks!

(See what I mean??)

Seriously Mad Wiffle Ball Skills

Max loves the Cubs. I mean, he really, really loves them. I suppose he is mostly modeling after my husband who cheers them on with great excitement, but he is quite a fan all on his own, too. He recognizes the Cubs logo, and can pick one out from a mile away. He routinely chooses the Cubs cup to drink out of, and has been known to carry around my husband's Cubs golf towel as a beloved object. He has a Cubs t-shirt that he loves to wear.

The one obvious bit of Cubs paraphernalia that is difficult to find in Max's size is a baseball cap.

We've come up with a pretty nifty solution, though. We start with a regular, adult-size visor, and make a little twist in the ends before velcroing them securely together again.

Voila! Tiny Cubs hat!

Max LOVES wearing his Cubs visor.

He especially loves wearing it while playing wiffle ball in the back yard. He has a pretty good pitch, though his accuracy is rather random. But if there's any doubt about how much of the televised games he's taking in, take a look at his pitching form in the following clip. He does a wind-up and raises his leg, just like the pros.



His real talent lies in hitting the ball, though. True, he gets frequently distracted by leaves waving in the breeze, or squirrels, or the noise of passing vehicles...but when he is focused, he has a very impressive batting average. Seriously. I know, it seems counterintuitive, because he still struggles with using his two hands together to catch a large ball, but I'm telling you -- the boy can bat.

Sometimes it's way more than mere contact, too. We're talking line drives here. And, though I can't believe I'm going to bare all on a public website like this, I want to show you the evidence of this wild claim.

Behold, Exhibit A:

Ball mark left on my stomach from a zinger he hit!

Notice the perfectly formed wiffle ball pattern that was created by the impact through my shirt!! (Ouch.) I didn't even have time to move.

I'm telling you, this kid's got some seriously mad skills.

If you want to come join us, we'll likely be out in the back yard, practicing again...but bring your protective gear!

Summer Vacation: The Story Behind the Story

We just returned from our annual summer vacation (hence no posting recently). This is the third year in a row that we have spent a week in a beach-side cottage with my side of the family.

While Max's older siblings and cousins have many memories of the previous years and talk about personal highlights, and favorite memories, and planning new adventures together, I'm never entirely sure what Max recalls about the past trips. To help strengthen some memories and build a reference base for him, we spent time looking at photos from last year and talking about the cabin and our plans.

Changes in his routine can be really difficult for Max, as I think I've mentioned once or gazillionty-twice. He'll happily go with the flow...and then suddenly hits a point where he's gone too far. When this happens, he doesn't eat well, doesn't sleep well, doesn't cope well, and things can escalate quickly to a sort of extended plateau of misery. He's matured enough now where short trips can work fairly well, but an entire week is a real test of endurance. I know I've seen big changes in him over the past year, but I was still keeping my fingers crossed that he would be able to handle it.

I don't know if he remembers the trip from last year, or is just so pleased to be there with a houseful of many his favorite people, but he adapted incredibly well this year. I was aware throughout the week of how much he has matured since last summer. He ate! He slept (thanks to Grandpa, who went to bed early with him every single night)! He even tolerated the 4.5-hour journey fairly well!

There were still a few moments where I was holding my breath & still keeping my fingers crossed -- several pukey, clingy mornings, and one short head-banging, hair-pulling tantrum during the night (towards the end of the week), but overall it was smooth sailing.

Smooth sailing with a generous side of splashing.

There were several things that stick out in my mind about Max's week -- things that remind me of how far he's come. Looking at his behavior each year in the exact same setting is a bit like having my own longitudinal study in a pseudo-lab setting. And though that makes it all sound too sciencey, it was a good eye-opener for me. In this parenting journey with Max, where progress is measured in the smallest of steps, it is so easy to overlook the changes that are truly taking place.

The cottage we stayed in is set back from the main road a bit, with a sidewalk, then boardwalk path, and then a flight of stairs leading to the front porch entrance. The dock and beach area are situated directly on the other side of that main road. At one point we realized Max had left the house (where some of us were) and come to the beach (where the rest of us were) all by himself. Gah!

I didn't see it happen, so I have no idea if he stopped and looked for cars before crossing the road or not, but I noticed that several times when we walked across together, he DID seem to remember that we had to stop and look. His uncle gave him a gentle-but-stern lecture about not crossing the road by himself, and he nodded and nodded and said "yah!" And then we sharpened our watch and made sure we verbally "handed it off" when done. (The tricky part here is to announce an impending doze before it happens...)

Now even though I do NOT want him to cross roads alone, it still is a warped type of progress. There was a time when he would have darted out into the street repeatedly, oblivious to danger. There was a time when he refused to hold hands, and leading him was very difficult. There was a time when he would have gone to some other family's beach spot, intrigued by a toy or snack he spotted there. But this year, he knew where to go, he knew how to get there, and he safely held hands and went with an adult every time but one! That is progress.

This photo captures an imaginative moment Max was having. He held this rock, signed "cracker", and then held it to his lips and pretended to eat it. He was pretty pleased with himself and insisted Grammy & I watch his little game. That same afternoon, he also picked up a hand-sized rectangular rock, held it to his ear, and said "Eh-oh?" as though answering a phone.

Max doesn't generally engage in pretend play, except for imaginary telephone conversations (well, and the let's-pretend-we're-sleeping-and-then-I'll-poke-you or the let's-pretend-you-can't-see-me-and-then-suddenly-you-can! type of thing), so pretending one item IS another item -- when they do not look the same and are not usually used to represent each other -- was definitely a noteworthy activity.

Grammy took along this incredible bubble-making wand. Max watched the other kids use it for a long time, and then tried it himself. He knew the loop end needed to be dipped in the bucket each time, and he knew the sliding piece needed to slide at some point (to open the loop), and though he had trouble doing it all in the correct order each time, he managed to produce bubbles the first few times he tried. His excitement caused him to mix up the steps, then, but after some hand-over-hand assistance, he was able to do it again.

Max's favorite pastime was sitting in the hot sand. He scooted through it on his knees, and slid his hands around and sifted sand for hours each day. He even seemed to enjoy the heat of it, preferring to sit and "sand" (yes, it's a verb now) rather than cool off in the lake. I really can't think of any other activity he willingly engages in -- independently, quietly, contentedly -- for such extended periods of time. Truly! I read books, dozed, had conversations...it was very calming and peaceful for BOTH of us.


Of course, Max also had great fun with all those people around. He is incredibly social and loves to have personal attention from someone. (And with 12 other people in the cabin, that wasn't too hard to find!) The other kids are all old enough now to interact positively with him and help keep him engaged. While some times they were clearly humoring him, other times he was simply one of the gang.


By the end of the week, Max was insisting on specific people for specific activities (lots of snuggling-based games with the aunt pictured below and a water toy Toss & Find game of epic proportions with his youngest cousin), and was verbalizing a version of each person's name. He had a blast.


On the last night, Max insisted on sitting at the kids' table instead of with the grownups. Though my mind immediately jumps to spills and mess and little ingestion of food, my heart knows the sheer beauty of that request.

After eating that meal, we all walked down the road to get ice cream. I ordered for the 4 older kids and then we stood at the counter waiting. The cones were HUGE (And messy. And we were leaving shortly. And he doesn't usually eat his food, anyway. And Is my cup really always half empty??!), so I didn't order one for Max. I figured he could just have a few bites and be satisfied.

But Max had a different idea about that. He wanted ice cream, too. Blue ice cream! He stood at the counter, just barely peeking over the top of it, trying to get the ice cream server's attention and signing and saying "booo" (blue). He was very polite, very appropriate, very persistent, and very independently trying to state his wishes and place an order. It was a proud moment, indeed. And while I know all the reasons in MY mind for not ordering him his own cone, I felt incredibly humbled. He wanted ice cream, too.

This boy? This boy who can't speak? The one I still think of as the baby? This boy is growing up. He's catching on. He's maturing. He's got some big ideas....and I think there's an awful lot he would like to say.

I'm trying really hard to listen.

Ahh...The Sweet Smell of Diesel Fumes in the Morning

...accompanied by the glorious music of squealing brakes, and the sunshine-yellow glow of joyful expectation: I LOVE the school bus.

Believe it or not, Max started back to school today! This summer went quite well...but it was definitely time to move on.

I am pleased to report that I didn't see as much of Max's typical summer regression this year, with the exception of a minor step backwards in his ongoing struggle with sleep.

Eating took a major plunge for the first weeks, but he's been chowing down with gusto in the evenings lately, so I'd say overall that held fairly steady, too. But in the other two main areas of struggle, communication and toilet training, Max has continued to progress despite our slapdash efforts and random days around here!

That boy is primed and ready. I'm expecting big things. Very big things!

Wordless Wednesday: The Sparkler

(Wordless Wednesday is a tradition in some blogs

...and seems particularly appropriate in this one.)

The Great Peanut Butter Fiasco

I'm not having a good day. Pull up a chair, though I do promise to keep it short.

I made pancakes for breakfast. I fixed a plate for each of the two boys and went upstairs to take a shower, thinking Max's older brother could keep an eye on him while they ate together. I don't normally do this, because it's just asking for trouble...or mess...or choking...or SOMEthing. But the big kids had dentist appointments and we needed to get moving.

I was just stepping in the shower when I heard, "MO-O-O-O-O-O-M!!! Hurry -- COME HERE!!" I could hear the urgency in my son's voice, so turned off the shower and ran downstairs.

This is what I found.

I had been gone for 5 minutes.

Why was Max so messy? Well, you see, we eat peanut butter on our pancakes. The jar was still sitting out. So was the syrup. My older son finished eating his breakfast quickly and went in the other room to watch t.v.

Max kept eating...by himself.

I have never seen so much misplaced peanut butter in my life. Globs on the floor, blobs on the stools, smears up and down the front of his p.j.s; it was EVERYWHERE. I couldn't believe that much peanut butter could actually fit in one jar! Scroll back up to that first picture -- that jar, my friends, was BRAND NEW this morning. I broke the seal myself.

Now, to his credit (I guess), Max did try to clean things up. He was washing his hands when I found him. And apparently he had already tried wiping them off on the kitchen hand towel.

I took him into the little bathroom off the kitchen to clean up away from the rest of the peanut butter mess...and he had already done some washing up in there, too!!

In addition to the big plops and blobs, the floor was absolutely covered with little crumbles of peanut butter.
I can't even figure out how it got all the places it did. I mean, he left a very obvious trail, and you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to piece together where he had gone...but seriously, just exactly how do you get peanut butter on the mini-blinds?!?

It was on the baseboards...

...and also on the oven door.
It was on the window, the window sill, the brick wall...
...and even UNDER the stove??

He must have been flicking his fingers and flapping his hands to get the sticky peanut butter off, flinging the goo hither and yon.

There wasn't even time for me to throw a fit, or yell, or lecture. We had an appointment to get to. I cleaned up the largest plops as quickly as I could, threw Max in the shower right along with me and wiped and soaped and scrubbed (possibly a bit harder than necessary).

I walked right out of the house with the rest of the mess just...there.

With the exception of the pictures Max is actually in, the photos were taken after we returned home. (Yes, that's right -- AFTER the largest blobs were already gone!)

Let me recreate the mess for you in this way: the following is a photo of my kitchen; this is basically what The Great Peanut Butter Fiasco looked like.

We made it to the dentist appointments (albeit a few minutes late).

My daughter has a cavity.

It's POURING outside.

The mess is now cleaned up, and it's way too early for a glass of red wine.

I'm soothing my shattered nerves with an extra mug of strong coffee, chock full of real cream and extra sugar. I am going to go make some sandwiches (TURKEY, thankyouverymuch), and then we are going to go see the Wall-E matinee while eating the biggest bucket of popcorn they sell.

I'm clocking out.