A Saturday in the Life...

 

Wow, he's sleeping in!  The clock shows 7:30...I start to hear those wonderful sounds.  Early morning noises commence.  "Tommy come snuggle with mom..."  and then the action begins.  "Go go!  Watering can!  Warm bath!  Walk!  Cookies!" I microwave yesterday's coffee and get my mojo up for a big day.  HERE, eat some bagels...let me drink my coffee.  No, no bath, your skin is too dried out.NO DON'T HIT MAGGIE...NEVER hit a dog.  Ok, let's walk. We head down Clubhouse and he hits a small dog on a leash being walked by an old lady.  I apologize and make him apologize.  And we walk around the lake.  Last week he jumped in, despite the ice, so I'm more threatening today. "Don't you DARE jump in.  It's freezing and it will hurt!"  We have a good walk.  Make it home and head for the Pancake Breakfast at the Clubhouse.  He makes it calmly 13 minutes. 

 

 We head for the YMCA to his joyful tune of "SWIM" 23 times.  "Yes, swim!  Like a fish, like a dolphin!" I exclaim.  At the YMCA he's compelled to pee outside.  Not sure why, but I chase him into the building.  Today his swim trunks are bugging him.  He rushes to the shallow end and has them off within seconds.  They are floating near him.  I scream and jump in and force them back on.  He's got a dry skin rash...I feel so thankful for our new lifeguards, so calm and laid-back.  Thank God for TV, Aubrey, and Courtney.  They never blow the whistle in embarrassing situations.  I get em back on.  Ask if he can just wear his underwear, they say no, I run to the front desk, ask for scissors and then cut the netting out of the trunks.  Miraculously, this works and we swim our dance, our favorite dance, chasing after the watering can and being happy together in the water.  I meet a new friend with a child with autism who is 6.  She gets my number and she says, "I'm so tired...I don't know what to do."  I say, "I know, they never stop.  Come climb Stone Mountain with us and hike with us."  We shower and I have to wrench the watering can out of his hands and cover him with lotion.  His skin is scaly from too many baths in cold weather. We head home even though he is repeating "Donald" dozens of times and I fix him a taco with fresh guacamole...

 

On our way to Stone Mountain, we stop and explore that old train that never moves.  The one with graffiti all over it.  He's excited and says, "Train, train-track..." and I ask, "Can you balance?" and we try to walk on the tracks.  He runs fast and jumps the tracks perfectly never missing a beat.  He likes the patterns.  He could have kept on walking all day there.  He said, "Walk, walk!!

 

 Stone Mountain.  He has said "Coke" 67 times, so I find a coke machine and have him press the button.  We hike up happily but near the top an ambulance and police car 4-wheel by.  Even though I've grabbed him by the vest, he runs right toward the police car and I screech.  We are warned down since someone at the top has fallen.  Tommy is devastated because there's a snack bar with warm pretzels at the top.  He gets madder and madder on the way down.  Hits me, hits the ground, hits himself in the head.  Grabs ancient gum off a post covered with chewing gum and chews it while I shriek about Hepatitus A. "Spit it out it will make you soooo sick," I shriek and he spits it out.  Dammit, I forgot his midday meds. Shoves a woman, and I make him apologize.  Plops down refusing to move. I promise him a pretzel at the German restaurant, but when we enter, he runs, panicked, up old wooden stairs that lead to nowhere.  An old man blocks him and helps me get him down.  I try to explain he's going to finally get his pretzel, but the anxiety has won, and he runs out an exit.  4 employees and I chase him screaming, terrified he'll run into the street. "Let me bring you your pretzel," the kind waitress offers and I accept.  I resent him for being so anxious that we can't even sit down at a restaurant.  When she comes, I tell her she is a kind person and give her a good tip.

 

Finally home, we have a good dinner and I try to clean him up and get his poor skin moisturized.  I have a  glass of wine and check my email and when I come out, he's sifted the dirt of one of my plants all over the sofa, an onion has been shredded on the rug, and there are pieces of avocado all over the living room.  Stay calm, explain, and clean.

 

He's exhausted.  He's beautiful.  He's anxious and active.  I love him,

 

Tribute to Tommy from the Beluga Whales

Tribute to Tommy - by the Beluga Whales
There are some humans just like me, that need to move just constantly, with pihrouettes and speed and grace, we choose to move at our own pace. Nobody tells us what to do, in water that's not what you do. If Tommy joined, he'd be amazed. Relaxed, not stressed, but full of grace. That's why we made an "extra round", beside the glass where he is bound...being human really sucks - the laws, the rules and all the flux. He smiled at us, and we smiled back. He loves to swim-one of the pack. Creatures come in different veins. And why should they all be the same? Chin up, tired mama, life is good, although he is not understood.  You do love him and he loves you...and all the rest is Blue Jay poo.
Signed,

the Beluga Whales

Autism and Confetti

CONFETTI BOY
According to the National Research Council, (although I had difficulty finding the chapter since Tommy shredded the Table of Contents as well as the first 6 pages a few months back), "Problem behaviors of children with autistic spectrum disorders are among the most challenging and stressful issues faced by schools and parents in their efforts to provide appropriate educational programs. Property destruction, physical aggression, self-injury, and tantrums are major barriers..." (NRC, p.115)Particularly among kids with a diagnosis of regular autism (as opposed to PDD-NOS or Aspergers), repetitive behaviors are incredibly difficult to remediate. Studies done in the 70's demonstrated that even when shocked (Lovaas), the behaviors did not decrease.

Paper shredding is HUGE in this population. Google it: "Autism and Paper Shredding". It's everywhere. I think it's not just calming but also visually stimulating, as so many kids with autism like to see "particles" or "grains" of things like sifting sand, rain drops, bubbles in Tommy's case sifting them in front of his right eye, and sometimes landing in his hair. Lately I feel like our family, home, vehicles and even clothing are tiny mobile confetti dispensers. It's been two years of paper shredding. I shouldn't complain since my buddy with autistic twins is looking at 6 years. Tommy started with leaves. He shredded them for a year. We became experts at which leaves smell the best and worst after shredding. We considered a potpourri business. We screeched to establish which leaves can and cannot be shredded. When we went through the car wash, the tattooed worker there would wink and give me a thumbs up when he saw the large tray covered with shredded green matter. "It's not pot," I wanted to scream, "Do you see any seeds and stems here for crying out LOUD?"

 Those now seem like the clean, organic days since "Paper" has entered the picture. We now have leaves, paper, and plastic shredded. A mult-media seemingly endless party of mixed matter that brings Tommy great joy. Mark purchased a large janitor broom which he now swoops cheerfully through the house every morning. The last time I left town, he admitted to "leaf-blowing" the house from the inside. Ignorant friends say, "Why don't you just STOP him?" and I want him to shred them and send them the Lovaas study and ask them if they have a 9-year-old that requires 24-7. In any case, I am not alone. My friend Anke used to collect phone books and had a special room for her autistic son to jubilantly shred them in. Tommy's therapist Scott worked with a family that started a "shredding business" which allowed their son to shred and make some cash in the process. Say the word shredding in an autism support group: eyes will roll, some laugh, tears appear in other eyes, favorite books that fell victim get listed, and alternative shredding materials and ideas are offered like recipes in a cooking class.

 In the meantime, the waiters at our favorite restaurants know that "shredding will happen some, but hey, that lady tips great...". Anywhere he leaves or enters a vehicle, there will be a happily tossed pile of confetti. And screaming and spanking may sometimes take place near bookshelves. The garage looks like a confetti factory exploded in it, and sometimes I rake confetti instead of leaves in the yard. The colorful line of debris from the front door to the bus stop give the term "paper trail" a whole new meaning.

 Obviously, with severe autism, we spend a lot of time redirecting and working toward "more time in 'normal ' behaviors (swimming, jumping, boating, learning adaptive behaviors-this week it is how to egg hung). But when something calms a child who might otherwise be tantrumming in what to him is a daunting situation (a new restaurant, a home he hasn't been to before, an airplane), a few paper towels can be a great blessing, if you can imagine that. At the end of the day, it's just paper. We laugh and tell ourselves, hey, he could be a sociopath, a jerk, a schizophrenic, a complete lunatic. But he's just a beautiful boy with autism who likes to throw confetti everywhere. Can we just pretend every day is New Year's and let it go?

"No Child Left Behind"...the worst thing that EVER happened to American children with severe disabilities.

Don't get me wrong.  This law has been effective for borderline kids, those with very mild disabilities or language lags.  Why?  Because this law required data-based proof that children are reaching reading and math goals, based on annual tests such as the CRCT.  It put principals and administrators of special education to task in a way that did benefit our society and our schools.  ALL EXCEPT FOR THE CHILDREN THAT NEEDED HELP THE MOST, and I would add for fiscal thinkers, the ones that will cost the most in the long run if they don't get the proper early intervention. Look at the organizational ladder of public schools.  A great teacher might become an IST (Instructional Support Teacher) and get a hefty raise.  The IST then proves herself by raising CRCT scores and lands the lovely job of assisant principal (lounge there while you can is I what I hear).  Then principal, coordinator, administrator...and hey!  Before you know it, you are the superintendent. The problem is that children like Tommy can't take the CRCT.  Thus, they don't advance the principal, assistant principal or Instructional Support Teacher's standing-no promotion, no raise, no recognition or awards.  THINK ABOUT THIS LONG AND HARD and then try to put yourself in our shoes as far as dealing with resources through principals and administrators of what "USED" to be special education in this country but is now simply a race to help the majority and an a catastrophe for MY child.

A school is required to make Annual Yearly Progress-AYP.   This progress is based on a test that many kids with disabilities can't take.  If the tests aren't up to par, the school gets penalized and put on probation.  Neither the principal, nor any anyone looking for a promotion or raise will get one in a school that doesn't make AYP, and this is ALL the responsibility of the school's principal, who these days uses the department of special ed (which USED to put kids with REAL disabilties first)and forces them to prioritize not truly disabled children, but children with extremely mild disabilities, or children who have English as second language. To make the situation worse, IF a school does not meet the criteria for CRCT test scores, it is then penalized, which not only harms the reputation of the school but also all those working in it, basically killing their chances of the promotions and raises they seek. I have watched principals hire the BEST OF THE BEST in special ed to tutor and teach "resource classes" full of "borderline kids" as they hire the least expensive teacher or para in the area to teach the more disabled children.  That is why parents of children with severe disabilities end up in court and lawsuits.  And parents of typical kids see us a "difficult" and "complainers".  Well, parents of typical kids who may be struggling or borderline in school, congratulations for having the law on your side!  Those of us parenting and tending to the schooling is our children with severe disabilities have to take our love for our kids, and the recognition that this law, NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND, harms them, and push for an addendum, a test, something can be added to this law, No Child Left Behind...that would magically give the same incentive to school systems to push our kids toward their goals. A new test, the same pressure on principals, special education departments, Instructional Support Teachers...something that requires THEIR promotion to also include the progress of our kids.
You might argue that our kids have "IEPs" (individual education plans).  Unfortunately, these have become weaker and weaker.  Children in special ed with severe disabilities now have Pass/Fail grades.  And many school systems can write a "P" for progress even if the child has barely even started to meet a goal.  The bottom line is that in REAL special ed , it is all about the teacher, the parapro, the therapists and their skills.  Sadly, I have found that following in the footsteps of parents of disabled kids who have special ed lawyers (or are special ed lawyers) clear the way in a school for years. Follow the lawyers and make you child's IEP count. It won't be easy/ Sometimes you just get lucky, and we are right now.  You get a teacher who really is just there because they love disabled kids. You get therapists who know their stuff, and you get parapros with big hearts. And you supplement where you can to help your kid by finding opportunities for kids with autism to become part of a community of play clubs such as Learning on the Log or Sensations Therafun. The bottom line though is that our fight, the fight of children with disabilities, is very different from that of the average parent and always will be as long as No Child Left Behind provides no incentives to school systems to intensify their efforts to help the population of kids who need it the most. Without built-in incentives for those who work with our kids, it is a daunting task indeed.

A Day in the Life

Quick footsteps and a soft giggle.  I roll over and look at the clock.  6:15...I hope for the Daddy to wake up.  I hear a yawn and a groan. "Hi, Tommy...want waffle? Come to the kitchen." Tommy runs from room to room naked and full of energy, saying all at once, "Cookie, I want leaf, outside, Mama's car...cookie!"  I call out, "Tommy Hedin, you come here right now and snuggle with your mama!"  He peeks in, smiles and runs away.  I swing myself out of bed with a yawn and head for the kitchen where the Daddy has made some coffee.  "Don't HIT me", yells Mark.  "Don't hit your Dad!  He LOVES you!" I chime in, and add, "Now SETTLE down and eat your waffle!"  Tommy sits and smiles.  "Juice", he says, and I fetch it happily.  "Orange juice ok?"  "Yah!"  I fill it 3/4 with water and add the juice, hand to him and kiss his cheek.  He drinks it quickly and runs for the basement stairs.  "PUSH!"  He says.  "I say, you didn't finish your waffle.  First finish it."  He goes back, eats some more and then starts to tear and sift it." "Waffle is for eating!" I say."

He runs to the door naked and says, "I want leaf!"  I tell him he's naked and needs to be dressed, so he runs down the basement stairs instead.  I slowly fill my coffee cup and follow him.  I hear a giggle..from the wrong room.  Tommy Hedin!!  He's in the laundry room pouring the soap out and rubbing it happily onto the floor."  "GET OUT OF THERE", I shout, and herd him toward his swing. He's naked and soapy and he jumps on his body swing to begin the superman flight.  He flies 2 feet above the floor in a circle.  It looks impossible!  He's happy. "Superman", I say.  Then he runs back upstairs. "Mark, have you given him his gummies (meds)?" I ask.  "Yes, I did."  I'm waiting for the meds to kick in and for him to calm down some.  "Ride car", he says urgently.  "Outside".  "I want leaf".  "Go to your room and let's get dressed", I say.  We go into his room and I tell him to "Get the underwear" out of the drawer marked -underwear-he gets 3 pairs and I help him put 2 back.  He has trouble putting them on and says, "Meed help", so I help him a little.  The same goes for "Get the T-shirt" and "Get the shorts".  He's getting better.  We can DO this!  Finally we're dressed and slightly stressed. "One kiss," I say, and he offers his cheek.

"Mark, I need to pack his lunch can you please watch him while I get this done?" "Yes, I'll take him for a ride.."  "Thank you!"  The door shuts.  I breathe a sigh of relief, pour another cup of coffee and sit down and stare into space.  Then I pack his lunch and prepare the backpack for camp.  Here they come.  We're ready. Kiss. Off they go. Mark drives him to camp.

At camp, he's hyperactive, but once the meds kick in at least he is calm enough to participate and follow directions some, especially in the activities he likes. At the end of the day, most days are good. Today, though, Armann says, "Double-check the meds...he's climbing out of his skin."  So we add a small dose and agree to send it to camp for them to administer.

I go to work and it's like a vacation.  So pleasant and easy.  I come home and enjoy some me-time.  Mark calls and says, "I'll pick him up."  and then here they come.  Tommy gets out of the car naked and runs towards the Jones' shrubs tearing off handfuls of leaves.  He then runs to the top of my car to shred, deepening the dent that is already there.  "GET OFF MAMA'S CAR", yells Mark and herds him to the porch.  I go out and say, "Mark why is he naked?  We can't let him run around naked" "I know!" snaps Mark.  Sour looks.  Tommy sits naked on the church bench on the front porch in the sun shredding leaves happily.  He is so beautiful.  "We really do have a gorgeous kid, don't we Daddy?" I say, and Mark looks at him and sighs and says, "Yes, we do."  I fetch clothes and get him dressed.  "One kiss", I say.  He smiles and offers his cheek.

In 10 minutes Tommy says urgently, "Ride car!  I wanna go!  Ride car!"  I say, "No, mommy and daddy are tired.  Let's rest awhile.  Come to my room.  I herd him into my room and lie down while he climbs the bureau and jumps from the bureau to the bed 20 times.  Finally he shouts, "Open door"!  Off we go.  "I want sand.  I want leaf.  Outside."  I say ok, and unlock the door.  He runs toward my patio and and I holler like a Banshee, "NO NOT MAMA'S PLANTS...GO OVER THERE FOR YOUR LEAVES."  He looks at my face and echos, "NO", quietly and heads for the nearly naked fig trees.  He strips off the leaves and climbs onto the trampoline.  I follow him and watch him smile and shred.  "BUMP"...he says, and pulls my hand.  I jump with him and we are happy.  I try to stop, but he says, "Get up...bump..." so we "bump" until we can't "bump" anymore. 

 I leave him and go to the kitchen. Mark is grilling chicken.  I go to make slaw and pasta.  We can sort of of keep an eye on him from here.  But then he runs into the kitchen with hosta leaves in his hands. "Dammit, Mark", I shout, "can't I take my eyes off him for 5 minutes!"  Mark shouts back, "OK right...you do everything..I do nothing."  I say, "That is NOT what I said...can't you move that laptop to a place where you can see the garden?"  Sour looks.

We eat.  He plays.  He yells, "Swim...I wanna swim!!"  I agree to take him.  Mark gets him in a suit and I throw mine on and we go.  He's happy.  In the car he repeats, "Swim, swim, I wanna swim" and we play 'fill-in-the-blanks'.  I say, "Tommy's gonna swim like a ____" and he says, "FISH"...I say, Tommy's gonna find Nemo and ____" He says, "Dorrie!"  We get to the pool and he flies into it, ecstatic.  I feel so proud of how well he can swim.  He's like a happy seal.  "1-2-3!  Get IN!", he says.  I'm glad he wants me to swim with him.  I steal his precious watering can and he says, "Throw it!" We race for it and dive for it.  I help him wait in line for the diving board. Some other kid dives for the watering can with him for a few minutes.Then comes the dreaded whistle.  "Adult swim", yells the lifeguard and everyone gets out.  Except Tommy.  "GET OUT OF THE POOL", I say, quietly at first.  Second time is louder.  Then I dive in and herd him to the edge. "It's adult swim, we're getting out and having a snack NOW" I climb out, drag him out and he throws himself down crying, "I waaa SWIM...SWIM SWIM SWIM."  I quietly try to explain what adult swim is and distract him with snacks.  It doesn't really work.  I herd him into the playground area and latch the gate behind us.  He throws himself into the dirt sobbing.  He's brown and muddy now.  The kids ask, "What's wrong with him?"  "Somebody hit him," I lie.  "Oh".  We finish swimming and he tries to take off his suit at the pool. "NO you can't be naked in public! Tommy wait."  He waits and then strips in the car. I turn on the radio and a Beach Boys song comes on.  He tilts his head, smiles, laughs out loud and starts his "Egyptian Head Dance"...so I join him, which makes him even happier. We arrive home. So much for snarking at Mark.  I try to control him, but he runs naked again to the neighbors' bush. 

He plays and I say..."Warm bath?"  and he says, "Warm bath.." I stay in the bathroom so he won't pour water on the floor.  Finally he says.."UNDER", we go to his room and he throws himself in bed.  I sing a song about the day. Everything we did.  He smiles and drifts off.  I kiss him, and say, "I Love You, Tommy Hedin..Do you love me?" He says, "Yah."

Misadventures and Heartstrings Costa Rica

Here I am...exhausted and stressed-in the Atlanta Airport-after the freaking marathon that is overseas travel with Tommy...panic in big buildings, a desperate need to sift mulch, sand, rocks on shiny surfaces, rip potted plants to shreds, jump on moving luggage carousels, grab the food of strangers, dart away unexpectedly, and scream, bite his wrists and freak out every so often on the plane. We have jumped through hoops and spit wooden nickels, to soothe, restrain, redirect, and control, and we are at our wits end. We have been glared at, tisked at, shouted at, stared at....we have had flight attendants give us free sympathy drinks, evangelists pray for us, and airport personnel either rush to help us or ask us why the hell we are in the "handicapped lane.." but all of that eases at I look at Tommy and Grandmom. They are side by side in matching airport wheelchairs (Tommy prefers to be restrained, it lessens his anxiety as well as his desire to slide down the luggage carousel ramp...) and Aunt Mary, who like me, is always trying to help him communicate, has told him, "Tommy, Grandmom can't see, so you need to touch her!!" And my exhausted, stressed, autistic son has discovered the loose skin on Grandmom's arms and decided, to her absolute delight, that it is the most fascinating thing ever. And he is kneading it like pizza dough and intermittently placing sound kisses on her arm. He rarely approaches Grandmom, and she has despaired of this because she is blind and can't play with him, but here, at this wonderful moment, there is a connection!! Mary and I and Grandmom laugh and quietly celebrate it, Nicholas chuckles.

You would never know that I had just completely lost it with the Atlanta customs entry personnel who had glared at us (next in line) for having a "perfectly healthy little boy" in a wheelchair in the handicapped line. They had proceeded to have a long, cheerful chat while casting casual annoyed glances our way. The glances had begun to change somewhat when he started screaming and biting his wrists...some interest appeared when he started hitting himself in the head. Finally something snapped and I crossed over the customs line and yelled, "I realize my son does not look 'handicapped' to you, but he has a solid case of autism, and he is impulsive and panicky in large buildings. He is now hitting himself in the head and freaking out...I know you are enjoying your little chat here, but if you don't mind, he really DOES have a disability, and it's been a HELL of a long day, soooo..." To my amazement, the chat ended promptly and we finally moved forward. You also wouldn't know, at this moment that he is kissing Grandmom's elbow, that he had screamed so much on the plane that the flight attendants had brought us free drinks, shaking their heads, and saying..."It's ok, it will be ok, we know you've got your hands full..." Nor would you guess at this moment of arm-kissing and smiles that my husband and I had practically killed each other at the end of the flight in a state of maximum stress, as our son yellled "PEE PEE!! PEE PEE! PEE PEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" at us for the 17 thousandth time (his way of getting up and walking around the plane)...

You might ask if it is really worth it to go on these exotic jaunts. This determination on my part to have an adventure, for all of us to have a great adventure every summer. So I will reminisce on the moments, like this one with grandmom that make it worth these hellacious flights. Like the look on his face when a giant Blue Morpho flutters past him in the jungle. Or our pride at his learning to swim in the ocean and enjoy BIG waves! The progress he has made in hiking-the fact that he waits for me some now, and even looks back! The smile as he sees clouds from ABOVE instead of below. The pleasant familiarity he now feels for monkeys as they swing by us on our journeys. The moments that a good vacation is made of. I will build my ability to hold them precious and give them more power than the difficult ones. We can, we can!!

The memories we make with the exclusive club that really loves him and gets him....swimming in the waves with the aunts and delighting at the foam. Kicking limes with his cousin. Waiting and sifting as his mom watches toucans....his SEEING the toucans! His smile! His emotional intelligence, facial expressions, love. The chance to travel with the Aunts, Mary who loves him so.

OOOHHH, Mark and I stress, we fuss and try to discipline him as he throws everything we own off the balcony. We build muscles dragging him screaming off the beach (separating him from sand, oh my!). Oh we sometimes holler at each other in times of frustration as he poors out every liquid in sight, floods our bathroom, and requests popsicles 3,400 times daily. Are we still married? Yep! Do we still love each other?...MOST of the time!! Can we still laugh? OH YES!

And we love him. And he loves us. And he loves Grandmom, and Mary, and so, heartstrings hold us together even on the wildest of adventures. So we will keep having them, absolutely...in places like Costa Rica, where easygoing, warmhearted people let things go with a laugh and a smile, saying, "Don't worry...it's ok!" Maybe Thailand?

In the meantime, I cry a tired tear of joy, and Grandmom laughs out loud.

Bye Katie, Bye Scott

Mom Is sniffly about losing Katie and Scott. They were pretty cool, well, ok, I guess they were really cool when all is said and done. When Kessler left, we didn't know if we'd EVER find another good helper in this world, but thanks to Dr. Heflin, who Mom calls 'The Autism Professor Angel who Sends us Amazing Help' and the Lunds, who are simply the best Behavioral Therapy Group in Town...we got Scott and Katie for awhile...

Katie came, and mom was nervous because the therapist before her had worn heels to try to teach me, and mom felt like anyone in heels and make-up wasn't really ready for me, and she must have been right, because this very nice lady in high heels made her getaway within about 6 months. She prefers babies, mom says, and ones who don't want to jump, run, and be big.

So Mom told the Lunds, yes, we need another therapist, but for God's sake, find one that wears tennis shoes to work, ok? And here came Katie. A complete natural. Tennis shoes, energy, and smarts! I loved her from the start, and so did Mom. Mom said, anybody who can get you to transition easily, jump with you, and keep your voice speaking is a good therapist. She said, anyone who knows that there is much, much more to this than just getting me to do what you say...that people who can bring out my intrinsic motivation, no matter how weird it may be...people who get me to come to them...well. Katie was it. And she specialized in getting me to play with other kids, which I simply do not like to do. But she found so many ways....But, as mom says, all good therapists come and go, and so will Katie. And after a year or so, she did. A divorce, a move, a new business, a new life....that's ok, Mom says, she did a really wonderful job.

And SCOTT!! This guy showed up with very red hair and a lot of energy. And he knew right away that we were going to have a blast. And we did. And wow! Scott and I did way more than just communciate with words (which is totally overrated, according to Mom)!! We rode bikes! We swam! We ran, we jumped, we climbed!! Scott met Katie, and she got him an extra job! Mom says she thinks they should go into business together.

But Katie moved on this month. And Scott's moving on after Friday....and Mom is on the computer again with Dr. Heflin, saying, do you have any really, really nice Master's students who would like some experience working with a really cool kid with autism? We can train them in Floortime, we can get some ABA training...you know, like every other therapist we've had, we'll probably end up getting him a really nice job....because the thing about students therapists is.....well they move on. Hey, we all need health insurance right?

But while they are here...they have energy, they can play, they learn, they listen, they teach, and Tommy loves them. And no therapist who ever worked with him leaves untouched by his bright spirit. It shows each and every person who comes that.....language is not just words...emotion is palpable....I am here and I SEE YOU, I hear you, and I'm glad. There is more to me than meets the ear. I am Tommy, and I will remember you. I have a really, really good memory.

Love,

Tommy