Mali, Leelo, Iz
Our ginger-eyebrowed, blue-eyed baby has entered a hyper-social phase. "Talking" to people to get them to talk to her, responding with emphatic syllables and a huge grin to any query. As cheerful as baby Leelo was, I don't remember him doing much of this interactive chatting. He was an easygoing boy, but he kept to himself.
Mali's gregariousness has a good side (everyone wants to hold her when we're out in public, and she doesn't mind) and a bad (if only Mommy's around, then all attention and interaction will come from Mommy, and not that stupid fucking purple bear Mommy keeps pushing in her face). I'm going for the happy baby, and letting the housework rot. Difficult choice, indeed.
Leelo started Iron Gate summer school today. His potty training lack o' accidents streak is going strong. I must ask Supervisor M how we then transition from Leelo going potty because someone takes him every fifteen minutes and bribes him with chips, to Leelo asking us to take him to the potty because he knows he has to go. But I am optimistic! She is the one whose faith never wavered, while I was muttering and doubting and investigating tween size diapers.
Other than that, he is in a gibbering phase. Attends beautifully during therapy sessions, but drifts into Loopyville when that one-on-one structure is removed. Also we've had a lot of crazy social events lately, and much busyness and pulling Leelo around during errands time, which isn't such a great thing. At least he is grabbing me and demanding kisses (though I wish he wouldn't pull on my earring or hair to facilitate them), and specifically demanding lots of walks with me or Seymour rather than with whichever babysitter or therapist is present.
We did leave him home with Babysitter A last night, while the non-autistic members of the family went out for dinner with Godfather M. Leelo is simply no longer bistro- or nice restaurant-friendly. I could console myself with the knowledge that few boisterous four year old boys could sit through dinner at such a place, but I hate having to exclude Leelo only. It makes me feel queasy and heartsick. Additonal stomach churning awaits as he get older and his condition becomes more obvious, I suspect.
Iz started tennis camp this morning. It was an all day camp, 8:30 to 5:00. She was pretty wasted by day's end, so I do think we'll cut her back to mornings only for the remaining four days. And that will hopefully mean that I can pick her up and drop her off while Leelo is at school/in therapy sessions. Then I won't have to navigate the multiple steep narrow staircases of the tennis club with Mali on my hip and Leelo's hand in a grip of iron so he can't bolt for his very favorite wading pool in the whole world, which just happens to be next to the courts.
She watched HP and the Prisoner of A with us a few days ago. I never offered the first two movies as they're shite. So now she is insisting on reading book 3 without reading books 1 and 2 first. I say: Whatever, as long as she's enjoying what she reads. The first two books, when she gets back to them, will then be the sources of many revelations. Also she has whipped through an Encyclo B book as recommended by Jo and Badger--good suggestion, that. It will do until I can find her an instructor of critical thinking, observation, and rhetoric.
A few days ago Iz asked me what birth defects were. Being a PC mom, I gave her a neutral, straightforward description. She found the concept fascinating.
Being an idiot, I forgot to mention that birth defects can be a touchy subject. My bad, as our girl just spent forty-five minutes creating an elaborate birthday card for her cousin Elise's sixth birthday, in which the central figures are the "Weirdos" and their birth defects. (Described generally only, and not illustrated in any obviously horrible way.) I have to figure out a way to salvage the card. The party is tomorrow at 1:00.
From the Steel Trap files:
1) Iz asked me if we were going to get to go on a glass bottom boat tour when we go to Hawaii in two weeks, as she's still bummed about our last tour getting rained out. Three years ago.
2) Last night I had to ask her repeatedly to stop whining about candy issues. I told her that if I was a evil mean parent, I could tell her that whining makes baby Jesus cry. She said, "Yeah, and if you were a really mean evil parent, you could tell me that rain is God crying because I did something bad. But," she said, smirking, "you would never do that, right?" Well, not since last year...
To bed. Hopefully baby Jesus will fix my html while I sleep, since I've had no luck debugging despite professional level support from two sources.