in which wisconsin is our unlikely hero

It got cold this weekend.

Curse you, weather gods!!!

On another note, I’m feeling good.  We had the therapyiststserts come and have a look at the Dude, and it was aDORable.  You’ve never seen a happier child than the Dude, going from lap to lap of these women who wanted to touch him and give him attention.

Note to self:  the Dude will not be allowed out of the house once he turns 13.  AK.

Anywho, the consensus is that he’s just a crazy physical boy.  The nice ladies are coming back to show me how to teach him to enunciate, as well as how to play with him so he feels fantastic so he’ll WANT to pay attention when I try to do those speech-y exercises.  And all the things they told us to play are so much dang fun - if you thought he was happy before, you should see him after you play a rousing game of Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

I know, I know, I wept and yelled and gnashed my teeth and all that, but I’m starting to realize how lucky I am.  He’s no different than any other kiddo and has certain strengths and weaknesses, and if he hadn’t acted like he was a possessed howler monkey during his 18 month appointment, I wouldn’t have known there were things I could do to help him be more well-rounded physically and verbally.  The doctor didn’t think there was any reason to refer him, but did it on a whim.  Something about the image of the Dude rolling around on the floor shrieking because he wasn’t allowed to eat the hospital gowns made the Doctor think it couldn’t hurt.

Honestly, I was really mad.  Send someone into my home to tell me why my son says 4 words instead of 5??  You MONSTERS!!  But then husband did some looking around and it turns out that the best state in the US to have autism is Wisconsin.  No joke.  Not that the Dude has autism, but Wisconsin has such aggressive early intervention programs that I’m getting extra help that by all rights, I wouldn’t ever have gotten and wouldn’t have been the wiser of it.

You win this round, Wisconsin.  Grumblegryumbleroksjdfsd.  Really, every time I have to put on snow boots or a hat, I scream to the powers that be to PLEASE have some kind of crazy miracle happen and have the husband’s job suddenly decide to relocate to Florida.  Except it turns out the worst state to live in for early intervention is Florida.  Jerks.

Okay, this time I actually mean it.  Thank you, Wisconsin.