Fingers Still Crossed

So far, so good... at least in terms of dairy-laced baked goods. Yesterday's cupcake seemed to have caused no ill effect, unless taking 10 minutes of a half-hour swim lesson to get used to the water ("I'm stiiiill getting uuuuuuused to it..." he whined to his instructor. I swear I almost hear him say "Suckah" under his breath...)

I do agree with him that this pool is numerous degrees cooler than the bathwater known as the St. Bart's pool, but the teacher, newbie that she is, obviously does not know two important things:

1. He will play her for all she is worth. For minutes 11-25 of the lesson I had a fantasy going in my head about how I was going to have to Speak.To.Both.Of.Them after the lesson about how just because they played when every other child in the pool was getting, oh, I don't know, a SWIM LESSON, does not mean the same will happen next week. Because ...

2. This is how he thinks: If we did it like that once, we can do it like that again. Is this, as I suspect, an Aspergers thing? If so, why is this not written at the top of every scrap of instructional material that someone who might work with a HFA child might read???

It's all well and good to list vague phrases such as "Resistant to change," but let's spell it out for all these nice people: If You Let It Happen Once, Kiss the Way You Want to Do It Next Time Good-Bye.

Then came minutes 26-30, and I took it all back. Duckyboy actually swam around when he thought he was playing! Ha! Who's the suckah now? Adults rule!

I still think he's going to want to have his lesson be like that every week though. And it could work -- but he's gonna have to show a lot of improvement every week in order for me to be able to watch that again.

He ate the remaining contraband, I mean bake-sale cookies, on the way home. Probably full of butter, I can tell by the way he snarfed them down. Wait, maybe that was just because someone Other Than Me made them? No, wait, one of our sesame cookies was in there too. Oh, maybe the kid was actually hungry at 5:45 pm!

Anyway, fingers still crossed. And not just about the dairy -- how's about a 101.7 degree fever for bedtime??

With any luck, it will burn off any milk-based effects. And I'm not even kidding; a fever makes him loving, workable, and snuggly. In other words, less autistic. And there's even proof of it now. It's just one study, but it's a start.

Husband just told me to blog about why SuperNanny Jo Frost is the hottest babe on TV. And that, friends, is one of the reasons I love him.