Grab Bag

Good language from the boy yesterday. Examples: I heard him wake up as I was completing my morning toilette, and so ran over to intercept him before he bounded up the stairs. He took one look at my naked self and wailed "put shirt ON!" He also greeted home-from-work Seymour with an out-of-the-blue "Hi, Daddy!" before any of us had a chance to prompt him. Nice.

Generally, we're good. Today I went and had a lipid (cholesterol) blood panel done for the first time in, oh, about 10 years. I'm guessing they're going to tell me to knock it off with the cheese, seeing as my cholesterol is usually around 245. In antinciption of the cheese lockdown, Seymour, Iz, and I shared a mommy's-too-tired-to-cook "country dinner" of cheese, fruit, and bread last night (ooooh, the almost pornographic delight of ripe, soft Exquilor). Iz got a kick out of requesting "more crusts of hearty brown bread to gnaw upon."

Talked with Dr. P yesterday about changing around Leelo's supplement schedule, and he shocked me by saying that the only thing he thinks SuperNuThera covers sufficiently is B6, and that we should keep everything else. Goddammit. Seymour intends to pore over our DAN protocol to recheck their dosage guidelines, and it may be that we end up customizing our own dosing schedule. SuperNuThera was developed specifically for autistic kids, after all.

Most responses to our therapist ad have been useless, as the respondents have edu experience but no ABA skills. It takes great restraint to not respond with "why in fuck would I trust you to instruct my child when you can't even fucking process instructions yourself?" However we've also gotten two bites from newly minted ABA'ers looking for more part-time work, so that's heartening.

Leelo has taken to dumping all his toy bins on the floor whenever he gets a chance, and then "swimming" in the resulting detritus. He's too crafty for mere barriers, so we may be looking into shelving. Farking fark, another project.

Speaking of projects, I have been trying a new approach in getting night-owl Seymour up in the morning, appointing myself his "alarm clock of love." I think he likes it more than me slamming on the lights and yelling at him to wake up, but it's a bit more time-consuming, and we were late again for everything this morning. I think an effective solution might be getting ourselves to sleep somewhere before midnight--but when Mr. Leelo decides that bed time calls for a two-hour-long nutty boy routine, it's difficult to then hit the pillows ourselves without taking any solo grownup time whatsoever.