There is a crisis of epic proportions at our household today. Meeper, blanket extraordinaire, who goes everywhere, has nipples, and got new shoes from Santa for Christmas, was placed on the floor next to the toilet during a morning peeper. Meep was already in dire need of laundering and that just pushed me over the edge. So, we are all waiting patiently by the dryer for the fluff cycle to complete. How many times can a three-year-old ask, “How much longer ’til he’s finished, can you set the timer, will you tell me when he’s ready?” in 90 minutes? We’re up to 12,327. I’m fairly certain if they made unfiltered Camels for three-year-olds, mine would be huffing on one now.

Ben: Ahhh. I remember a few years ago when I used to go on fishing trips in Canada.

Me: Well, I think it’s sweet you skip it now because you’d miss your family so much.

Ben: More like, my family doesn’t AFFORD me the opportunity.

Today’s Sunday Morning Lecture Series with Professor Bedhead is about Flower Pectum. This will be on the final exam.

It’s hard to be sincere when you’re sarcastic. Unless you’re sincerely sarcastic. I’m more inspired by funny than by mushy. That’s just me. It doesn’t mean I don’t have my moments. And, when I do, it seems the sheer force by which those moments hit me squarely between the eyes sometimes is extremely difficult to mask from the general public.

When you choose to wear clothing displaying a particular team’s name or icon, you’re not really surprised when it starts up a conversation with complete strangers. Totally acceptable. I wish it was okay for team Autism. A Dad and four teenage boys were in line behind us today for a local festival. One of the sons had Autism. He was going on about the details of cars, clothing, and Orthodox Jews in only the detail and passion as someone on the spectrum could. I so wanted to turn around and high five the Dad. Let him know we also play professionally for team InsectMapPlanet.

I actually welled up a bit. It feels a little silly now. At the time though, it was strange being so close to someone else who knew all about the plays and not feeling like I could recognize the coach. Also, it was the first time since Ellie’s diagnosis that we just happened to run into someone else on the spectrum who wasn’t part of any training or therapy. I don’t know. Made me want to come up with a secret sign that would be okay for us parents to use for recognition, appreciation, and support. The high five is taken. I’m not fond of the butt smack – also, it’s a little less secret and more, well wrong. Any ideas?

Ellie just learned how to whistle. For five solid days, she’s been blowing wind out of her pie hole. Yesterday, it turned into sound. One note. Over and over again. I’m looking forward to car trips this summer.

We’re putting our summer holiday to the Mediterranean on hold temporarily. We’re thinking it might be more fun to just stick around home and have Ellie’s adenoids removed.

Well, aren’t I the ninny for thinking that THE BLOOD DRAW might be a topic difficult to shed for five or six YEARS. When will I learn?! That was so last week.

Tank tops are the true nemesis. I don’t know what exactly it is about them, but Ellie finds them oddly peculiar, hates, them, loves them, and is drawn to them. She cries when I have them on and questions me constantly about when I’ll be changing. She wants to wear one. Then it’s in a heap on the floor for committing some fashion faux pas known only to her. There are constant questions about them.

* Do you like tank tops Mom?
* Is your tank top made out of fabric?
* Why do people wear tank tops?
* Can you wear a tank top whenever you want?
* Will you please take off your tank top?
* When can I wear a tank top?
* Does this tank top make my arm fat look fat? Well, maybe that one was mine.

Ellie’s Teacher: Ellie, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Ellie: A juggler.

Ellie’s Teacher: A juggler?

Ellie: Yep. Of balloons. But just one balloon because I don’t know how to do more than that. Mom, do you think we could turn our house into a circus?

Me: *Poof* Done.

Our IEP at the beginning of this preschool year included goals of sitting in circle time with the other kids and saying good morning. I left that meeting in tears. So hopeful, that if just that goal was met one time, for the entire year, it would have been a complete success.

This was my girl at the end-of-the-year party. Awesome!

In the Parent Manual, page 796, Section II, Article A, Subsection B.1.2.A: When one party of your household, under the age of four, is ill (ill being defined as snotty, poopy, vomitty, or slightly whiny) since January, the primary caretaker is allowed to drink whiskey at 4pm versus the standard 5pm set for all normal people.