This child of mine hates, hates, HATES having her hair messed with. Guess what? Her teacher has, three days in a row now, put Emily’s hair up.
Today it was French braids!
Emily loooooves to label, so we do a thing where I point at whoever is in the room (one by one) and ask “who’s that?” When we get to her, she almost always says “baby!” A couple of times, she’s said, “me!” So, today, out of nowhere, this happened…
Me: Who’s that?
Me: Who’s that?
Emily: Maggie! (dog)
Me: Who am I?
Me: Who are you?
My jaw dropped! I praised her like mad!! When Daddy got home, we tried it again and she said Emily that time, too!
“I could easily stop my child’s meltdown. I am a magical fairy, after all.
But, I love how uncomfortable and annoyed everyone looks when it happens.
You got to have a hobby.”
Three meltdowns in one day, one of them about an hour long (and that was the one I handled well… figures).
It’s been a while since a day like this has happened. How long, you ask?
Well, during the year or so we were faithfully eating gluten-free? Not one day like this.
Yes. As you may have guessed, we fell off the wagon. Pretty badly over the last couple of weeks.
Since about November, we have been eating pizza and such on occasion, while maintaining GF during the in-between time.
Emily didn’t really react badly.
Then we got too cocky and ate gluten too often.
We rue the day.
The past week has been constipation and meltdowns aplenty.
We’re getting back on the wagon.
About once a week or so, it happens.
The awkward dance.
Emily meets a new person.
There’s the initial, “Hi sweetie, what’s your name? How old are you? What grade are you in?”
Then there I am, either answering for her, or repeating the questions to her, in a vain attempt to get her to say something.
More often than not, what she says (if anything) is something like, “kangaroo!,” or “ice cubes!,” or “hi” (if we’re lucky).
Then my internal argument with myself begins, “do I tell them she has Autism?”
“I could tell them she doesn’t talk much, but they just heard her script a full minute of dialog from Numbers Ahoy.”
“I could say she’s shy, if it weren’t for the dance routine she just did for anyone who cared to watch.”
Eventually, my desire to escape the situation takes over and we make a hasty exit.
I never was a very good dancer.
People often ask me what helps/has helped Emily the most. I thought I’d go ahead and rank the top five.
So, I go to pick up Emily from school on Thursday and her teacher says, “I’m not even kidding… best day she’s ever had!” She listened, she talked more (!!), she “sang every song and did every move.”
Way to go, Emily!! I guess that week you took off due to head lice made you miss school that much.