The usual Wednesday progressed, and we picked up the big boy from school and headed to 164 Texas east. Normally I'd just say "to Waco" but Ryan's affinity for road signs has grown, and he loves to spout off things like "no thru trucks", "no parking anytime", "student pick-up and drop-off only, no parking", and of course, "164 Texas east (or west)". One of my favorites is "CO... RD". He said it just like that until I convinced him that stood for "county road"!
Ah, good times!
Anyway, we made it through all the "do not enter, mommy" roads, and even saw a random helicopter on the side of the road, which thoroughly tickled the boys. Upstairs at the BARC, we shuttled Ryan into the room, took our potty stop, then settled in the hall for the hour. Boredom ensued, resulting in this...
And this...
When it was over, and after Ryan had run down the hall to the stairway in protest of me talking to B (he says "the talk is gone" when he wants me to wrap it up), I thanked her for doing her usual work with my guy (which is actually anything but usual) we headed to the little elevator and piggy-backed to the door and then walked to the van.
After a pretty low-key ride home, we hung out and got dinner ready. Spaghetti was for dinner, and I didn't make a pizza.
WHAAA?!
No, I didn't make a pizza. He refused it Tuesday night, which sent me into a bit of a tizzy. It's all he consistently eats, and I have to admit I panicked a little. Okay, a lot.
So remembering his sudden disdain for his usual, I scooped him a plate of spaghetti, prepared it like I did when he ate spaghetti (it's been way over a year) and put it at his place. We all braced for impact. Surely when he discovers that's all he gets, things will get noisy, hitty, red, sweaty, and shaky.
As we sat down he did yell "no". I told him matter-of-factly and calmly that since he refused pizza last night, he'd be eating what the family ate tonight. We sat down, sang our blessing, and began to eat.
Then we sat very quietly as he pulled his plate toward him, and began to pick up (albeit with his fingers) his first bite. He ate it. He went for another. And another.
"Are you seeing this?"
"Nobody move! Nobody breathe!"
"Don't look, he might stop!"
J, Eric, and I sat still as a butterfly had landed on our laps. We watched as he cleaned his plate. I texted his therapist, who I usually try to not bother away from the BARC, and she freaked out too! When he finished, yes he FINISHED, his food, he held up his clean plate and I sent his picture to her.
He ate spaghetti for the first time in over a year.
Black cookies and iPod time were thrown at him like confetti.
And there was much rejoicing!!!
This was also the first night that Richie sang all the words (okay, some were made up by him) of our favorite blessing to sing at dinner...
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here, below;
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
Thomas Ken, 1674
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