I love Willa’s expression in this picture. “What the what?”
We’re all wondering that Wizzie Do.
Archives for April 2009
A Wee Favor
I forgot to tell you the story about Jackie’s trip to the emergency vet. It’s been almost two years now since I promised and I note that no one has been clamoring for me to come through?
“Why could that be?” She wonders.
I will give you an excerpt:
“Is there such a thing as Munchausen by Proxy with a canine?” I asked the vet’s assistant.
“What!”
“You know, that syndrome where parents pretend their kids are sick to get attention themselves – Munchausen by Proxy, is it possible to have it with a dog?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but if it is, you don’t have it, because every time you call Jack really has a problem…he’s special.”
I thought she might mean special ed, but I wasn’t in a position to quibble.
……………………………………………
So if someone would be so kind as to pretend to be interested in this story I would really appreciate it and I’ll tell you why I need your assistance (clamoring – feigned is fine. I might be needy but I’m not picky.) soon.
Thank you ever so much.
Christopher is preparing for school in the fall or rather the school is preparing for him. We are busily scheduling and attending assessments to create a plan and determine necessary accommodations. Accommodations is special ed speak for a little help.
Yesterday he had his first assessment, this one for speech and language. Before we left I was talking to my sister Torey on the phone. I told her I was a little worried.
“As well you should be,” she said.
‘I’m afraid they’re going to tell me I’m a rotten teacher – no they won’t even give me that, they’ll go right to, “You are a terrible mother!'” We laughed picturing me crumpling to the ground sobbing. My potential humiliations are a minefield for our amusement.
At the school the therapist assured me that it wouldn’t take long. She left me in the lobby and bustling off to her office, Christopher loping after her. Before I knew it they were back and she was beaming. His speech (meaning his ability to speak, i.e. his pronunciation and articulation) was great and his language (vocabulary) was fantastic. The therapist has never had a child with hearing issues score as highly as Christopher did. She was almost giddy when she showed me the results. “YOU have done an excellent job teaching him, ” she said, clutching my arm.
I didn’t quite swoon into the river of adulation remembering that his math skills had yet to be considered.
She explained the test to me. To start she had administered it the normal way. She would say the word in question and he would point to an appropriate picture. He wasn’t doing terribly well, which wasn’t a surprise to her, but I think she was having to repeat herself, so she changed her approach. She decided to write the word down and allow him to read them. From that point he knew every one and he almost completed the list before the time ran out. The therapist has never had a student get that far before.
“He is very bright! We just need to make sure he can hear what is being said.” Bingo. We talked about possible accommodations.
She showed me the words he had missed: carpenter, canister and appliance. These were right before she began to write the words. I was surprised that he didn’t know these, but knew it was possible. He knows every appliance in our home (and read many of the owner manuals) but I wasn’t sure I ever referred to them collectively as appliances and that was the sort of word he might not come across in his extensive reading.
I explained this to the therapist. “Do you have canisters?” She asked. We don’t, at least not on the counter and it’s possible that word has never been used in our home either. I called Christopher over and pointed to the list.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Oh,” he said gesturing with his hand as he does when he’s searching for words, “it’s a container you use when you want to seal something.”
“He knows it!’ The therapist hissed.
I pointed to the word carpenter, “What’s this?”
“Someone who cuts wood,” more hand gesturing, “and builds things, like houses.”
“Do you know any carpenters?” I asked.
“Uncle David.” I nodded.
I looked at the therapist who was beaming. “His score is even higher!” He knew appliances too.
We showed Christopher where his age was recorded as well as the age he was assessed for language. “You won’t need to meet with me!” The therapist said.
Next week he has several more assessments and then there will be the formal meetings where everything is taken into account and plans are made. I have been his mother for over 13 years, his special ed advocate for 8 and his full time teacher for 4. I finally feel equipped to interpret all the testing, consult with the specialists, consider recommendations from the administrators and discuss and pray everything over with Paul. And finally, this is what I truly believe; that God is going to guide us because Christopher has a hope and a future. It’s not all up to me.
I have travelled the long way round to this conclusion, but I can’t look back and shame myself. I’m just happy to be here now.
Racial Preferences
“What kind of cheese do I like?” Eden asked at dinner. “American or African-American?”
In case you’re wondering, it was the former.
FYI to all the pregnant ladies
“That’s not appropriate.” Eden said yesterday at the health food store.
She was pointing to a bottle of stretch mark cream that featured a seemingly nude pregnant woman resting on her side. The model’s arms were draped over her breasts and the picture was taken at such an angle that the focus was on her large bare stomach with everything else obscured. I’m sure the marketers were going for the sensuous beauty of pregnancy (especially if you bought their cream!) But that didn’t cut it with Eden, the self-assigned arbiter of all things appropriate.
Once home, as I put away the groceries, I overheard her shouting to Jack, “Sniff my bottom! Sniff my bottom!”
“Stop that!” I shouted.
“It’s appropriate, Mom! This is how dogs communicate.”
“But you are not a dog.” I said, heading for laundry room where Jack’s kennel is and the scene of this canine psychology clinic.
She met me half-way down the hall. “He had already sniffed it.” She said matter of factly.
So there you have it pregnant ladies:
Nude pictures, even those tastefully modest? No, never.
A dog smelling your nethers? Absolutely.