He runs to make his mind still, to organize himself and to get rid of the noise from this loud, confusing world. The more he's moved, the more he's introduced patterns and rhythm into his routine. Laps around the house are a daily ritual. He's made it more complex as he's developed, but the basics are the same. There is a pattern of movement -- specific foot patterns based on whatever song or chant he chooses to accompany the run, and he can not be stopped until he is ready to be.

This is James, and this is our story.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Typical Insanity

I woke this morning to my 6 yr old standing next to my bed.

"Mommy, will you bring my file cabinet downstairs so I can play with it?"

Ugh. Sunday morning, during my hour of peace. We are finally at a place where the boys can get up and entertain themselves and we can sleep in a bit, except for the every 15 minute snooze alarm that sounds oddly like a squeaky Sheldon Cooper. 


I swear I'm going to get James's IEP to include that his ABA therapist must sleep over Saturday nights just to work on that.  So a normal Sunday morning has one of us getting up to complete some absolutely unnecessarily necessary task, then coming back to bed and falling alseep for 10 more minutes until the next Sheldon-esque call. 

The typical 6 yr old usually lets us sleep. But not today. 

Today Johnny had a new toy.  The 1970's metal file cabinet he bought with his own money at the neighbor's yard sale yesterday.  He played with it all day, locking and unlocking it, putting his animals inside.  He dragged it around the walkway and the living room on its metal wheels, propping it in front of him and making up songs about it to sing to his animals.

He had us bring it upstairs at bedtime and turned it into his nightstand. 
There, I thought.  Now it will just be a table and he can put stuff in it. 
And he'll go back to playing with his real toys.

But then this morning I heard in my drowsy state: "Fluffy, do you want to go into the File Cabinet of Fun?" and I felt the same little creepy chill I got when he told me he wanted to drive an ice cream truck when he got older.

I fell back to sleep and dreamed of scary clowns and freaky dolls, and when I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me. 


Actually, he probably said "Mommy" but it wouldn't have made any difference since this is the child I saw in front of me:

"You promised.  PLEASE?" 

I know, I know.   I'm coming.  Just go out in the hallway for a few minutes, you are starting to freak me out.

So I brought the file cabinet downstairs, and Johnny picked up where he left off, playing with his new cabinet. 

I looked over at James, running laps around us and singing another made up song to the same tune as Johnny's Fun House File Cabinet ditty, and started to laugh.  Then I wondered if Tony and I could combine efforts and write a comic strip about a quirky little kid, who is daily becoming more quirky than the one with the Dr's label stating that he is, in fact, medically quirky, and that kid's best friend, File Cabinet of Fun.

1 comment:

Tina R. said...

File cabinet of fun, oh my, that is an interesting statement especially early in the morning.