Barry: “The only thing she doesn’t blog about is her children sitting quietly.”
Actually, there is an increasingly lengthy list of incidents, behaviors and observations that I haven’t been putting in writing. Since I know that everything I don’t write will rapidly be forgotten, I need to revert to journaling the good, bad and everything in between. I already find myself calling for John Boy, I mean Mary Ellen, I mean you. Yes, YOU to clean up this mess you just made.
I allude to Evan’s speech impediment, but only when it’s cute and fuzzy. I have avoided the deep, dark family secret that when Evan and his sister are fighting over a piece of paper and the paper tears into several pieces, Evan shrieks, “I ripped it.” Except, what everyone hears is “ray-ped” and that means something entirely wrong coming from a 4-year-old’s mouth. Despite the inappropriateness of the situation, this never fails to result in smirks from the adults. This is immediately followed by Evan torture in the form of forcing him to say separate sounds and then putting them together until the word is pronounced closer to its’ intended pronunciation. “Now, say ‘ri’ and ‘puh’ together.”
I try to always have ice pops in the freezer. The plastic tubes filled with frozen kool-aid are inexpensive and easy, but they are also part of Tommy’s sensory diet. After eating one, Tommy has an elaborate chewing, fidgeting, folding routine with the wrapper that can help him stay focused for a good 3 hours. Unlike most foods, Evan needs help to get ice pops open. He would eat them constantly if they were easier to access. “Can I have a popsickle?” “After you eat lunch.” “Say ‘ohhhh’ and then say ‘kay’ to me.”