Me: “Let’s see, we need some lettuce. ‘Lettuce’ go and get some!”
Em: “That’s a good one.”
Nice to know she’s learned the fine art of humoring her mother.
Em: What are you doing this weekend?
Me: Oh, working in the garden some. I’ve really enjoyed it. How about you?
Em: I’m going to a Justin Bieber concert.
Me: Oh really?
Em: And I’m going to punch Justin Bieber in the mouth!
Cue maniacal laughter.
Evil League of Evil, we’re awaiting your invitation.
Em wanted to be sure that a visually impaired boy in her class could read the Valentine she was sending him. “Can we write (his name) and (my name) in Braille?” I did my best. Hopefully this is one of those “it’s the thought that counts” moments.
Please remember this next time someone puts forth the opinion that autistic people lack empathy. The empathy is there, it’s just that it isn’t expressed in a form you might recognize.
I admit I felt my shoulders relax, releasing some tension that I didn’t know was there. I guess all parents are a bit on eggshells, making a thousand tiny adjustments in steering their child on course through life. This feels like proof that we’re doing something right.
This sign appeared on my daughter’s bedroom wall tonight.
I am so not ready for her to grow up.
I’m up rather earlier than I’d like. I got to bed late and planned on sleeping in, but the rain knocked out some of our TV channels and Em got me up to try to fix it. So I’m up and rescanning the channels into the TV, just in case that helps.
And since I’m up so early, let me share this gem from Craig Ferguson’s Late Late show.
Comedy gold.
We put our Christmas tree up yesterday. Em wants to guess what her presents are, but has informed us that under no circumstances are we to actually TELL her what’s in them or let her know if she guesses right.
Today we’ll be doing our annual Christmas cookie bake up at my aunt’s house. It’s always fun. We glop powdered sugar frosting on sugar cookies and sing Christmas carols. The rain will definitely not keep us from that.
I should probably not post while I’m this sleepy, since I’m probably not making much sense. So this is me, in my fleece polar bear jammies, signing off.
ETA: resetting the channels worked, so it was worth it. 🙂
Em loves this Slinky. Well, loved. It does get tangled. Up until now we’ve always been able to unwind it, but this was beyond repair.
This time, she became extremely frustrated and refused all help. We decided to leave her to her devices.
The slinky was untangleable. She got frustrated. She started slinging it around. It hit the telescope. The telescope fell on her foot. The fall dented the telescope and cut her toe badly. She bled like a stuck pig and understandably began yelling. We put one bandaid on, and then another after that one soaked through.
She’s finally calmed down. We’ll get another Slinky. But hopefully there’s a lesson learned.
Oof, what a night.
Em is playing flute in the band this coming year. Today, we rented an instrument.
The kind gentleman at Howren Music was showing us used flutes and we talked about how far we could get the price down on them. Then he asked what school we were going to. I told him, and he said, “Ah.” The used flute disappeared and a new one came out of its factory packaging. Apparently there are some programs which require a certain level of instrument. He said, “If I send her over there with one of those other flutes, I’ll hear about it later.” So we wound up with a new flute and the book and DVD set which they’ll be using at her new school. Fortunately, it’s not that much more expensive.
This whole experience of moving from a Title I school to a somewhat more upscale school has been very interesting.
We had a sudden cloudburst yesterday. It passed quickly, leaving a lot of water on the ground and sunny skies above. Perfect for splashing in warm puddles.
We have a Windows machine partitioned into different sections for my husband, my daughter, and myself. All three have passwords. We all knows Em’s.
Today I was trying to log in to her side to help her with something and the computer wasn’t accepting the password.
Me: Did you change your password?
Em: No, the capslock is on.
Cue internal “duuuhhhh” feeling here. She was right, of course. I had turned on capslock when I had to enter a code while installing something and never turned it back off. She didn’t see me do that, but she did see that the light was lit and knew that the password was case sensitive.
These kids today…
Here’s Em’s fifth grade talent show video. Note that at the start the kids in the audience start to clap with the beat, but then a teacher shushes them. Buzzkill.
I’m reserving my seat now for the Tony awards.