I have moved over to WhittereronAutism.com. Please follow the link to find me there. Hope to see you after the jump! :)

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

The Theory of Mind is still with us

It's a given when it comes to autism, or rather a misconception. Like all misconceptions it is both commonplace and all pervasive, the myth that autistic people lack empathy.

***

We arrive at the restaurant, install ourselves in a booth in a rather haphazard manner and begin to examine the menu. Everyone knows off by heart.

A father and a baby arrive at the same time. They wait to be seated.

“Where for it is?”
“Where’s what dear?”
“The kids menu?”
“Oh did we only get one kids menu sheet?”
“Yup.”
“Hmm.” I look at my son’s face which is growing closer to my own height. “Maybe they thought you were too big for the kids menu?”
“Twelve and over?”
“Quite possibly. You do seem to be awfully large these days.”
"Awfully?"
"Um...'quite,' quite large." He grabs the unwieldy 8 page laminated menu with alacrity and begins to peruse his choices. He drops it again in favour of the less daunting single page of ‘specials.’ I watch him, animated and engaged. I don’t believe he has ever actively chosen to read a menu, even at MacDonalds, even if MacDonalds can be described as having a menu in the first place.

His eyes are sucked off the page by the arrival of the quite adorable baby and his father in the opposite booth. They had no problem 'waiting to be seated,' unlike my unruly brood. The baby cooes and kicks with contentment whilst his Dad quips his order to the server. I examine the specials so that I’m better able to prioritize and limit my son’s choices, as choice is always a hurdle.

The boys gasp collectively for no apparent reason. “What is it?” I ask two people who are staring across the room. I look across the room at the baby and father. The father reads the newspaper and eats from a plate piled high with pancakes, sausages and salad. “What is it dear?”
“Dah baby.” I look at the baby but my view is obscured by a large cuddly toy.
"It's o.k. his dad will probably feed him in a minute."
"No! Dah baby!"
“What about the baby?” I look at the big furry mass with the still legs underneath, the stiff arms poking out either side, the silence.
“He dun like it.”
“He doesn’t like what…..I mean…..what doesn’t he like?”
“Dah wolf is scary for him.” Whilst one child speaks, the other takes action as he flits across the passage, grabs the cuddly wolf and turns it’s face outwards, teeth bared, the wolf, not the boy, and slips back to our booth like a whippet. The father snaps down his paper, but not quickly enough. He glances at his baby son who chews contentedly on the wolf tail in his face.

Rats to “the theory of mind.”

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Lay out guys

5 Minutes for Special Needs

Bigger pi dishes require more numbers.


How do you ensure that you transpose all the numbers of pi correctly?




Employ a nit picker! Fueled by Goldfish.




If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Cat and dog love



If your family already has a cat and wants to add a dog, or vice versa, how is the best way to ensure that they all get along?











It’s good to begin with a carefully orchestrated plan of desensitization. Never force either animal into close proximity with the other. This technique requires a great deal of time and patience. As with all relationships, it cannot be rushed. Each animal needs to progress at their own pace.





One easy place to start is to feed each animal it’s favourite treat by hand at the same time so that they can then learn to associate treats and the new pet, with positive associations. If this is done on a regular basis, gradually they will hopefully become physically closer.





Currently, our cats are not keen on the dog but will tolerate being in the same room together.








As we have just completed two science projects for school with the children, their enthusiasm for experimentation has expanded in quite unexpected directions. They decided to investigate another possibility to speed up relationship development between their pets with the assistance of these two trusty tools. First spray the dog with liquid cat nip then sprinkle liberally with dried catnip. Wait patiently for the cats to fall in love with the dog. They waited quite a long time until it suddenly dawned on them……both the cats and the dog are all boys. I decided to explain ‘ménage à trios,’ when they are older, maybe, the children not the pets.


Tackle It Tuesday Meme
Try This Tuesday

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Far afield



Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

red BSM Button





Photobucket


Evidence of successful field trip! No matter that it was hateful, boring, hard work and had no souvenir shop. Despite all his numerous verbal complaints he still managed a veritable treasure trove of productivity.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Her Royal Highness and Pi dish Two

He flits about the house following orders from his older brother, “yes your Highness,” he quips in mid flight, which seems odd for a die in the wood republican.

Only a year ago we had to endure the neverending tirade about the "evils of England" and now all of a sudden he has turned into a serf.

I decide to check his political allegiance.


“Hey sonny jim!”
“I am not dah Jim.”
“True……..so when you called him Highness, did you mean this kind of highness?”






“No dummy. Dat is a wimmins.”
“Of course. You mean this kind of highness, right?”




“Right.”

Did I mention that his big brother grew an inch and a half in less than a month over on "Twitter?"




Lastly, on a final note in response to the "criticism" that the bowls were too 'empty' meaning 'too much blank space,'

I have my final offerings:-




And yes, if I ever get them fired, glazed and fired again, they will be available on Etsy.

Cheers dears

Stop the R word




You can read a full version of the argument at the link below:-

Stop the hate speech: r-word dot org

"ASAN" [Autistic Self Advocacy Network] are working hard to raise awareness of this issue.

You can also nip on over to "Facebook."

Friday, March 20, 2009

Pi dish

Slurping Life



Get the code:-
Cut and paste
from this little
boxy thing below










Autism awareness month is nearly upon us, so I have a new design, with "Daniel Tammet" in mind, for those of us ordinary folks without savant skills.

Criticisms so far:-

1. The numbers are too big
2. The numbers are too small
3. There are not enough numbers, 50 numerals is stingy
4. The numbers are anti-clockwise
5. It has to end with a zero or serious pain ensues
6. The numbers are upside down
7. Where are the fish?
8. Why can’t we have negative numbers instead?
9. Green is better

Please feel free to add your own criticism and comments so that I can adjust and try to accommodate.

Cheers dears

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Reciprocal exchange, scripted yet unscripted



For the longest time imaginable, we have been trying to extract reciprocal conversations with our boys. We started off small, but gradually as they grew and learned, more has been forthcoming. I can still remember the ‘game’ that we invented. Coloured paper coins had different letters on them:-
Q for question
S for statement
C for comment
P for praise
We gave them each half a dozen. They had to use them all up before they were permitted to escape. Escape was the reinforcing positive reward. Oh how stilted it all was. Oh how frustrating. Oh how many times I had to cut out more coins as they were crushed, screwed up and hurled.

They grasped the basics. They knew what was expected but it was hard. It was difficult. It was unrewarding for them, just one more chore to add to the never ending list. It’s only redeeming feature was that it was finite, the end was always in sight, completion and gone.

It’s been a long time a’coming but every so often I get the chance to sit back, feet up and listen to little unprompted chats.

“So whya cats better than dogs then?” she asks him at the dinner table as he hunkers in close proximity to his untouched meal.
“Coz dey are man’s best friend.”
“No, that’s dogs yah dipstick.”
“Oh man yah kill me.”
“What else?”
“Cats are meow.”
“Dogs bark louder.”
“Oh man yah kill me.”
“What else?”
“Cats run fast.”
“Dogs run faster.”
“Oh man yah kill me.”
On and on they go, again and again and again as the spaghetti congeals on the plate. How else could it possibly be? It’s not as if you should eat and talk at the same time, how rude would that be?

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Twist and plop – a three ring circus

I consult the pottery guru. A woman who has thrown many hundreds of pots a day for more days than either of us can count. I need help with just two of my many little problems:-
1. Once I have thrown a pot I cannot get it off the bat without distortion.
2. When I turn the foot of the pot, I cannot get it off the wheel head without distortion.
She gets back to me within the hour, not via telephone, as who can hear a voice message over the din, but by email, my life line to the outside world. I read her words:- wire it off, lift and place it on the drier but as you place it on, sort of spin it as you drop it and it will plop into place. I am deeply grateful that there is no sporting reference but also dubious about my top spin abilities as I’ve never been a fan of cricket.

I dash out into the garage to give it a go. Remarkably, each bowl plops and judders into place, still round. I leave 18 bowls to dry out enough to carve and return to my other domestic duties. My other domestic duties are all very hungry but unwilling to walk the plank to success. Instead of sitting at the dining room table like good little pirates to eat their dinner, instead they insist on two minute bathroom breaks. They take it in turns, our only current control mechanism, “no you can’t go to the loo until he comes back.” It’s feeble, it’s pathetic, it’s unstoppable.

Each boy makes the forty yard dash to the bathroom, hangs over the sink and fills his mouth with water from the faucet. Part habit, part palette cleanser, part displacement activity from the hideous chore of eating. It crept up upon us when we weren’t paying attention. So busy celebrating their ever expanding diet and the demise of neo-phobia, we failed to notice that few children will have a large appetites if their tummies are already full to capacity with several gallons of tap water. The subsequent wet beds are no laughing matter.

The first few visits have now morphed into a ritual:- the breathless announcement of pending activity, the dash, the glug, the call to return, the return, the pirouette and booty wiggle before chair parking, before eating can commence again. Minute additions to the script means an endless run on. The virtual high five, the air kiss to the dog, the pat to the cat who must not be left out, on and on and on it goes. Each visit takes about three minutes. Each meal’s duration lengthens daily. In order to finish dinner we need to start at breakfast time. One teaspoon full of food to five minutes of shenanigans is a poor ratio, times two.

But they’re happy, they’re eating, two fundamental and crucial facts not to be missed nor buried in "the mire of confusion." We are unwitting "enablers" in our own downfall, "facilitators." We need to unravel the knitting, drop a dozen stitches and refashion, but habits once formed, are difficult to break.

A brake would be a good start.

“Do you know what?”
“Wot?”
I explain my problem with the pots, I model the solution, the spin, the plop, the drop with sound effects.
“You be are look like a big, blobby, jello,” he giggles.
“Maybe you could be jello at the table too?” Both boys back glance to the bathroom which is calling loudly, urging repeats, demanding their attention.
“Go on. Have a go.” They hesitate as the pressure to repeat mounts, more difficult to shake off but my daughter is up off her chair to demonstrate spin and master jello judder. They can’t help but look, as pre-teens guard their growing maturity, their need to exude confident sophistication. They can’t resist. Pirouette, plop and judder, over in a few seconds, the spell broken.

Do we plan to adopt and incorporate this as a new campaign? No. Not really. It’s more a way of confirming something that I already knew. It is still really difficult for them to sit at the table and eat. It’s not a preferred activity. I need to ensure that they have the opportunity to rid themselves from as many of the fizzies and wiggles as possible prior to the main meal of the day. It’s the same as it’s always been, but I’ve just been lax. Maybe it’s ten minutes on the trampolene or five minutes chasing the dog or 7 minutes of rough and tumble? It used to be ‘therapy,’ ten minutes of brushing or massage or deep proprioceptive input, but they’re older now but with the same underlying predispositions.

As yet I’m not sure what we’re going to do, but I do know that whatever you care to call it, some kind of outlet must be incorporated.

In many ways it reminds me of a bygone era where eating in the street was an abomination. But times have changed. People eat whilst doing other things, work at the computer, run for the train, brown bag lunches, lunch meetings and conference calls, chat and walk and check their text messages all at the same time as they re-fuel. The ritual of a family meal is a rarity with the busyness of modern life. No-one chews a mouthful 36 times and everyone suffers from indigestion.

I suspect that we searching for some middle ground. The ability to tolerate if not enjoy the collective meal as well hold onto that flexibility, to refuel on the hoof as we sprint through the rest of our lives.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Woofless Wednesday

5 Minutes for Special Needs


I took Thatcher for a play date with his sister. If my own children could play or play as quietly as this pair I would eat my hat.

Thatcher is the bigger, lighter coloured one. His sister is smaller and more Labradorish, "You can see the video here."














If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Irish Stew

Tackle It Tuesday Meme
Try This Tuesday


What else could I do in view of my heritage. AS with all traditional recipes everyone has a family variation on a theme. Make it today, it will taste even better tomorrow. My mum had two:-

1 lb of lamb neck [on the bone]
yes I know I’ve lost you right here as American do not eat little lambkins
2lbs floury potatoes chopped into halves or quarters depending upon size
1 lb of carrots chopped into chunks
1 lb of Swede peeled and chopped into chunks [Rutabagas]
2 lbs of onions rough chopped.
1 tbs all purpose flour
1 litre of stock
Lots of freshly ground pepper
Handful of parsley washed and rough chopped



Brown the lamb on a high heat to seal and then remove.
Add the onions to the ‘dirty’ pan and brown. [this takes about 12 to 15 minute on a low heat.
Add all the other vegetables and toss together until coated and thoroughly mixed. [*]
Add the flour and pepper, and toss through the vegetables.
Add the stock and mix through. [this will thicken later]
Add the meat back in and leave to simmer for a few hours on the hob. [this makes it a stew rather than a casserole which is ‘baked’ in the oven]
Leave to cool.
Skim off any surface fat.
When you reheat the next day add the parley just before serving or it will lose colour and go all stringy.

Second version.
Omit the rutabaga and stock.
Make 2 pints of béchamel.
The same until [*]
Cook together for an hour in the béchamel [low heat or the béchamel will burn]
Add the parley and serve.

Interestingly to me, whichever version I choose to cook and serve, there is now the remote possibility that all of my different family members will eat some of it. Quite a feat around here. My youngest son will scream with protest but this is more from habit than any real angst. We will all be at the dinner table at the same time and some of us will approximate ‘sitting.’ If I’m very lucky, my stew will score a 2 out of ten, which is a great improvement upon a minus infinity. Soon we hope to fade the 'spoon-feeding.' I doubt if any pleasure will be gleaned from the menu itself, but there is no end of delight to be extracted from communal gathering, assuming you have your ear plugs of course.

If you have a few moment spare you may wish to nip over to "Trish" at "5 Minutes for Special Needs Moms" where she is tackling the issue of:- 'Disciplining Your Child=

The person who suggested this topic specifically asked about the teenage years, so if you have experience in this stage of life, we would love to hear from you next week. If your children are younger, what is working for you at the age they are now?'

Whilst I would love to address this particular topic myself, my typical daughter was a teenager a long time ago. I would encourage everyone to take a peek and note the comments as although we may not have reached that stage ourselves, I can assure you that it will be coming along all to soon, and it's always good to have a jump on impending developments.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Science experiment - predictions and outcomes



Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

red BSM Button





Photobucket


Take six identical plants and water with different kinds of liquids to determine which affects growth in what manner?

Such as Lemonade



Coffee doesn't seem to perk up everyone it appears.



Here's the control just in case you thought we might cheat.



Wine may mellow some but this looks like the worst hangover to me.



Milk for breakfast may suit some but this is a mouldy old mess.



And lastly, the winner by a mile and better than mere water by far, if you compare, is tea. British Blend of course.



This outcome was entirely predictable in my opinion.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Pain in the planet



The workings of the mind are always intriguing. As my autistic boys learn to express themselves verbally, all too often we get tied up in knots of confusion, or rather I do. Trying to unravel their enquiries is often time consuming and requires a great deal of patience. They have to be patient with me whilst my brain plays catch up and connects the dots which are obvious to them but minute and disguised to me.



“Eeoow! What is dat stinky smell which is being in my nose?”
“Yes sorry about that. It’s recycled clay.”
“Recycle? Recycle is stink?”
“Not always but in this particular instance, yes. It’s all the left over bits of clay. I stick them in an old pillow case, in a bucket filled with water. Then when it’s all smooshed together I can use it again, but it is rather smelly.”
“What for the other things that we are do then?”
“Er?”
“Dah two?”
“Which two?”
“Dah re-use and dah reduce.”
“What about them?”
“Are they being the stink too?”
“No they’re not stinky."
“An dah other one?”
“Which other one? We already have them all, re-use, reduce, recycle, that’s it.”
“No.”
“No?”
“What it is mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“Joyce?”
“Oh…..well Joyce is a name.”
“Who name it is being?”
“Well it can be a first name, like Joyce Grenfell, or it can be a last name like James Joyce.”
“I am like dah other joyce bestest?”
“Er…..you’ve lost me.”
“Dah other ‘re’ is not stink. I am liking dah smell of dah other ‘re.’”
“We’re back to re? What’s that got to do with Joyce? Do you know someone called Joyce whose keen on recycling……or……..something?”
“No. Where is your think today?”
“Think or stink? What are we talking about here?”
“We are have dah old ones.”
“Which old ones?”
“Dah re-use, reduce and dah recycle.”
“O.k. So they’re old are they?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s the new one then?”
“Dah re-joyce which is being smell nice and is being a nice name for a nice smelly thing.”





Who knew fancy tea-bags could ever provoke such a debate?

Friday, March 13, 2009

Old fogies

Slurping Life



Get the code:-
Cut and paste
from this little
boxy thing below




I conclude that young people today are very odd:-

“Where’s Mr.B today?”
“Why should I know?”
“Well…….you’ve only been together for a blink of an eye.”
“We’re not joined at the hip mum.”
“!”

“Mom?”
“Yes dear?”
“Fred says that he really likes me.”
“Ah. That’s nice.”
“He says he’s always liked me.”
“Super.”
“He says he’s liked me since Kindergarten.”
“My that is a long time.”
“But I was at a different school then. I think he’s tryin to butter me down.”
“I do hope not.”

“What it is?”
“What is what dear?”
“What?”
“What what?”
“Watt?”
“Oh…..a unit of energy. Why do you want to know?”
“Coz I wanna know how old it is?”
“How old what is?”
“Watt age?”



“I am love.”
“Indeed you are. Anything in particular?”
“Valentine.”
“Valentine’s Day was last month. We’re working up to St. Patrick’s Day now.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Valentine is being my best friend in the world ever.”
“Is he indeed. Is he new in your class?”
“No she is being my frog?”
“She? Frog?”



Thursday, March 12, 2009

Wrap Around Services and other urban myths



This term of art only has meaning in the quagmire of America. Many of us have older autistic children now, but if we could turn the clock back and recall those early days, what would have made a real difference? Wrap around services. I don’t know what your experience was, but this was ours.

We decide to investigate further. The pediatrician provided a referral. Without a referral we would be unable to make a medical insurance claim. With luck a pediatrician would be able to recommend several specialists to choose from, but that’s because we are in Silicon Valley. Less densely populated areas may have much less choice. With the referral in my hot little hand I make an appointment with my chosen specialist group, who are really a whole team of experts. The specialists have a waiting list and so we twiddle our thumbs for several weeks or months. We make sure we have reliable child care for other children.

Thereafter the team presents their evaluation of the child. We are provided with a lengthy list of therapists available to help our child. We contact each of the therapists each of whom has a 6 to 8 month waiting list for an initial evaluation. If there is no waiting list this should be a warning. The longer the wait, the better the therapist. Time ticks away and the child spins their wheels. Much later we commence therapy, attend each session and learn as much as possible from them so that we can practice at home, where they spend the majority of their time.

What then?

[*]After the first month, if you are incredibly efficient, you send in your first batch of insurance claims to your insurance provider together with a cover letter and receipts by certified [expensive] mail because otherwise they will deny all knowledge of the package.

Within the week you will receive a letter corresponding to each receipt from the insurance company, approximately 54, that each tell you to do nothing, that they have received your claim and that they will be in touch with you again shortly.

They get in touch shortly.

In any one receipt there may be any one or more, of the following errors: no date, no code, wrong code, no signature, discrepancies in the time. An additional letter is sent from the insurance company to detail each error individually in a separate letter.

You then return to the therapists to have all the errors corrected and send them all off again. In your haste you fail to send the parcel by certified mail. Not surprisingly, the insurance company claims that they have not received your corrected receipts.

Repeat.

Additional letters arrive to explain that until you have hit your deductible of $5,000 for each child, they won’t pay a penny. You wait a couple of months until you have hit the deductible and being again.

During the following months, if you’re very lucky, with a fair wind behind you, you may, and I repeat may, receive reimbursement to the maximum amount of 65% because you are out of network, i.e. those therapists that they endorse, who are too far away, and also have waiting lists and aren’t necessarily a good fit for your child, and of course there are very few of them in the first place.

Because several months have now past, the insurance company writes to inform you that they wish to ensure that the therapy is working. To ensure that the therapy is working you must now have an additional evaluation done by each therapist for each child, which will not be reimbursed, to prove that they are indeed still autistic and still in need of services.

You contact the therapists who go out of their way to re-evaluate the child that they initially evaluated less than six months ago. [three months is not uncommon.] Within a few weeks the new evaluations are ready and sent off by certified mail to the insurance company. The children continue to receive therapy in the interim. The bills continue to be paid by you, in the interim.

With the evaluations completed and bills mounting, you collect, collate and send in the next few months of therapy claims to the insurance company. Repeat from here[*] Repeat the whole exercise for child two and amalgamate the claims and double everything else.

But as always, I digress.

Wrap around services:- a co-ordinator. This person does not need any paper qualifications, they need to be a multi-tasker with a cranium full of common sense. Someone who does all the phone and paper work, especially form filling, who has your client referral number tattooed on the back of their hand, who finds the therapists, can ensure that the evaluator communicates with the therapists, interacts with the school, someone who copies and forwards each evaluation to all the other participants, talks with the local service providers for ‘in home services,’ ideally this person who comes to your home to provide services 'in the home' is also someone who speaks English or failing that, someone who likes children, finds a slot on the school bus that does leave before dawn or return after dusk, someone who knows that an hour and a half on a bus each way is not good for any child, especially when the school is only 7 minutes away, someone who can see anomalies, such as, what is the point of taking two children on the bus but leaving the typical one behind as ineligible because if you’re driving one typical, you might as well drive all three and therefore it isn’t a real service at all, which is kind of what they’re banking on because if no-one takes up the service then clearly it isn’t needed and that will save the budget some, someone with a slew of resources for allergies, specialist food sources, medical suppliers and sleep specialists, someone who knows a dentist who will accept autistic children, someone who understands that the transit taxi service to and from therapy is not an option for some children without specialist training first, that days are short if you find yourself ferrying children to and from therapy for thirteen different sessions per week after school, finds a good respite worker, a respite worker who could, just possibly, look after the typical child whilst the other two are at therapy because no-one else can take them to therapy, if not, you’re not actually helping, who has the forms for a disabled parking sticker application and corroborative evidence in support of the claim, or the forms for diaper and pull-up subsidies, someone who appreciates that sleep deprived children and parents with a wide variety of intermittent sleep disorders rarely pick up the phone because it is pointless unless there is the remote possibility of hearing the speaker’s words over the din and that e-mail is not a deadly sin and a far more practical way of communicating in the 21st century, and I won’t sue you if you make a spelling mistake, especially if you can only call between 10 and 4 when everyone is here and needs supervision, a person who not only provides specialists with an 8 month waiting list but also has a forward reminder system so that follow up is at least a remote possibility, and yes I understand that you need to conduct our evaluation for services in our home with the children present so that you can check but please understand that at best you will only have 10% of my attention to complete your forms and answer your questions whilst I cater to everyone else’s needs simultaneously, someone who understands that my estimate of the number of minutes I spend on laundry per week is very approximate and subject to irrational peaks and troughs but roughly approximates to a minimum of three loads a day and that I am unable to accurately deduct the percentage amount of time spent upon other family members laundry, ditto food production, ditto cleaning, someone who has heard these terms before:- autism, speech delay, elective mute, echolalia, sensory issues, pica, smearing, tactile and oral defensiveness, to name but a few, someone who doesn’t expect me to explain these terms to them in my children’s presence, someone who realizes that there are two of them, they are related, they’re brothers, they live in the same household, at the same address, together with the rest of their large family, they are autistic now, they were autistic then, they will continue to be autistic, you don’t need to check so often, I’ll let you know if either of them ceases to be autistic, they have names, different ones, the big one is called Owen, the little one is called Leo, Little Leo, does that help, although they are related and autistic, they are not clones, they are completely different from each other, someone who can fit all the pieces of the schedule together, remove all unnecessary duplications because there are two of them, ensures that all these different people know who everybody else is, what they are doing, why and when? If wrap around services started from day one, then this would mean, that amongst many other things, such as, kick starting the process of order, progress and family sanity, my time would be freed up to thrash the bloody medical insurance company into submission.

And that’s the brief version.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Eat your words



Well let’s just try and be polite about it and say that I have a sense of humour that isn’t shared by many. Because of my freelance status, I am generally careful about the tricks and jokes that I play upon other people. All too frequently, sarcasm, the lowest form of wit, is mis-understood and roughly translates to mean mean. Meaness is not the goal. The goal, broadly speaking, is joint attention and enjoyment, although a wee giggle wouldn’t go amiss.

Hence as I pick up another piece of paper mangled by the completely useless printer, I notice that the tear bears a remarkable resemblance to a bite mark. How can I resist? I march up to the first one with a cross expression. “Hey you Mr. Sonny Jim. No more eating paper if you will?” He looks at me blankly as I waggle the blank piece of paper in front of his face. “It were ent not me.”
“Yes it was. Look. It’s the exact same size as your teeth.”
“No. It is being too big for to be me.”
“You think?”
“Yes.” I see no glimmer of recognition so I pull him along with me to the next one so that he can witness and re-group and practice.
“Hey you Mr. Sonny Jim. No more eating paper if you will?”
His brother blinks at me, not vacant but engaged with other matters.
“No. I din dun do it.”
“It were ent not me neither,” repeats his little brother.
“Are you sure? Look it’s the exact same size as your bite.”
“No. I not.”
“Right then.” I haul them both along to repeat, regroup and practice with their sister.
“Hey you Miss Madam. No more eating paper if you will?”
She rolls her pre-teen eyes and notes her brothers’ presence, hovering and ever so slightly expectant, perhaps.
“Weren’t me.”
“Oh yes it was. Look it’s the exact same size as your bite!” She looks at the paper more closely. “Geez! It’s a load of old rubbish that new printer, innit?” No-one is responding as I wish them to respond. I purse my lips and glare at their mystified father. He removes his glasses to begin cleaning them, methodically, as he adds, “I seem to recall that you’re the only one who has ever been caught eating their exercise books in school.” Now they all look at me. Now they’re interested. “True, I have to admit.”
“You are eated paper?” he asks, incredulous.
“Yes. When I was at boarding school. We were always hungry and possibly bored.”
“Dey din dun feed you at your school when you were being a child?”
“They did,……..but not enough……..and we often had to fast on a Friday.”
“Fast Friday? What is dat being? I am liking fast, dat is my kind of a school.”
“No actually, it isn’t your kind of a school. It’s not speedy fast but ‘don’t eat’ kind of a fast. Come to think of it, that probably would suit you very well.”
“I dun fink I am liking dah very fast school for eating paper.”
“Yes, your mum probably has more trees growing inside her than anyone else we know.”
“Don’t be daft dad, that would only be if she ate tree seeds. Did yah eat tree seeds too mom?”
“No, just apple cores and their seeds…….and their stalks……..I was very hungry.”
“Are you……are you……….are you hungry now?” he asks tentatively.
“Starving!” I stuff the paper in my mouth and begin to munch with avid enthusiasm as I watch their faces, to my personal delighted satisfaction.

I’d eat the whole ream for that kind of joint attention.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Portion Control

5 Minutes for Special Needs








If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Monday, March 09, 2009

Fox on a stick – how to make your own





Recently on "Victoria’s Stillwell’s" programme, ‘It’s me or the dog,’ on "Animal Planet," they featured an exercise toy for dogs, especially our Labradoodle, Thatcher. This tremendously fun toy is of course completely "unobtainable" and all the stores have sold out. I know you’ll believe me when I tell you that after half an hours viewing, we had to have this toy, and not just for Thatcher the dog. Our dog Thatcher needs two, one and a half hour exercise sessions a day, but with the current rain schedule, this task has fallen solely upon my soggy shoulders. No big surprise there. However, with a little temptation for other members of the family, you too can take a little respite by making your own ‘fox on a stick.’

You will need:-
A flexible stick [not too long or may break or bend]
Duct Tape
Drawer liner plastic fabric
Swivel
Thick cord
Bungee cord
A strip of furry fabric or old stuffed toy
Bacon grease



First tape the drawer liner fabric to one end of the stick and build it up to fashion a handle for those with poor fine motor skills or elderly persons with other grip issues.







Slip the thick cord through the swivel and duct tape it to the other end of the stick.

Knot one end of the bungee cord to the swivel.

Slip knot the fabric or old toy to the other end of the bungee cord.

Spread a little bacon grease on the furry fabric and introduce the contraption to your dog. Once your dog is in a state of ecstasy over the bacon grease transfer dog and contraption to the garden and whiplash the furry fabric around the lawn and watch your dog revel.

Needless to say, my youngest son who favours long handled things of any kind is almost as ecstatic as the dog.

Tackle It Tuesday Meme

Try This Tuesday

 
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