Who Says?

I have an unbelievable amount of things to do today.  I really do.  Packing remains to be done.  The only good thing I've accomplished is dressing the kids and throwing jeans and a t-shirt on myself after brushing my teeth.  At least I vacuumed last night, and the rooms just have toys on the floor.  Mom and one of my great aunts, we'll call her GM, are coming today for Richie's tubes and adenoid/tonsil removal tomorrow, and I'd rather my house not look like hurricane Senzig kids hit it, but I digress.  I must interrupt the insanity of my day to tell you about this.  MUST.  

As I sat down between spurts of work to have a swallow of coffee and read some news, this happened.

  

Looks like he's making a very important call on those drumsticks, no?  

He plopped down, started PRETENDING to type, and said several times, "Richie's laptop computer." 

This is a long, long time removed from the days when I sat in a daze filling out the tests upon tests of hundreds upon hundreds of questions such as "Can your child kick a ball?" and "Can your child take steps in stride?"  Not only that, but they want to know at what age... to the month... he did such things.  Over and over, I searched my memory for pictures in my head of balancing, throwing, talking, walking, steps, everything they asked for.  No pressure, just my child's label or lack of a label at stake.  Just his life.  No pressure. This could only be the difference in help or no help.  It's only after all this that they think to tell you not to worry, because there are things in place to prevent things like throwing the test in one way or another, or any accidental throwing of the test by things like an addled mommy brain. 

One of the things that we were told... and we understood to be true... was a lack of ability or care to pretend.  Pretending is a very abstract concept.  Ryan's brand of autism and abstract things do not go together.  Age appropriate play is out the window.  I don't know what seven year old boys are into these days, but I'm pretty sure it's not Blue's Clues, Elmo, and Thomas.  

Honestly, if there's one thing about autism that I can embrace, it's this part.  

But he's pretending every now and again.  And every time it happens, it's a kiss from Jesus.  "Inability to pretend" seems to be less and less apparent, eh?

Back to your regularly scheduled packing, planning, and cleaning frenzy.

And, lest I forget, thanks be to God, the giver of all good things!