Family Reunion

We have been home from our big trip to the family reunion for over a week now, and I've not said a thing about it. I have wanted to. But it is just so big. There is so much. My heart is so full. I don't know how to tell you or where to start. Boo was amazing. Awesome. Incredible. But what I saw last weekend was that he comes from a deep and rich background of amazing, awesome, and incredible. The time we spent there was fabulous, partly because I know Boo, how far I can push him, and when to stop pushing. Partly because Boo knows me. He knows he can push himself, and that his mom will always be there to run back to if he goes too far or gets too uncomfortable. Partly because Mammo and Grams are phenomenal. They know how and when to support, and when to back up. They can step in and do the explaining while I step out and do the calming. But here's the real key. Here's what made that weekend go from successful to incredible. My entire family is loving, accepting, happy, and eager to understand and help. Some of them already have a pretty good grasp on what autism looks and feels like, and some just got their first introduction. But every single one of them without exception gave me the distinct sense that they wanted to get it. They wanted to try. They wanted to help, to encourage, to understand, to connect. They didn't get scared or intimidated. They didn't ignore us or leave us out. They were oh so gently inclusive. Encouraging Boo without overwhelming him. Loving him without smothering him. Graciously giving him space and time when he needed it.

I have long said that my family is the stuff that soap operas are made of. We jokingly say that we put the "fun" in dysfunctional, but it is achingly true. There isn't a drama, a crisis, a breakup, a makeup, a trial or a joy that some member of my family hasn't been through. We're messy, we're sticky, we're crazy, and we drive each other nuts. But let me tell you something about my family; when it comes to love, we have the market cornered. There isn't anything we can't love each other through. No one can mess up badly enough, be emotionally screwed up enough, or behave badly enough that we stop loving them and supporting them. As a family, we are not defined by our missteps and mishaps. We are re-shaped by them. But we are defined by our recoveries, our victories, and our triumphs. Sure we get irritated with one another, we get angry, some of us go long periods without talking. But we get past it. We move on. We realize that we aren't responsible for each other and we can't change each other, so we might as well just enjoy each other. So even though some of us drink too much, and some of us talk too much, and some of us laugh too loudly, and some of us roll our eyes too frequently, and some of us can never arrive on time...we can still all get together and sit in a huge circle on a big stone patio and sing Amazing Grace together. We accept each other. We value each other. We love each other. This isn't something new we've started. It's woven into the fabric of who we are as a family. It's not just what we do, it's who we are. So dealing with Boo, learning how to be with him, how to make him comfortable, how to include him...it was second nature. It was seamless. I shouldn't have been worried leading up to the trip, and I shouldn't have been surprised by how it turned out.

There are so many small stories encompassed in the larger one. So many special moments. Difficult moments that we navigated with the gentle loving help of the family, and amazingly victorious moments facilitated by the very nature of their love. They made my Boo feel comfortable in their midst, despite the fact that he was in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, and following nothing at all resembling his normal routine or schedule. He soared. And the palpable love and acceptance of everyone who was there helped give him the wings. I would like to tell you all the little things that happened. For now, to attempt that feels overwhelming. So I will try to put the small stories in subsequent posts for you. Today, I'm still just marveling at the joy of the entire experience. And I am praising God for giving me the phenomenal family He did. I am very blessed.

Independence Day Highs and Lows

Overall, we had a very happy fourth of July. We hope you did too. This morning we ran a few errands and hit the fireworks stand, where Boo picked out several likely looking explosives. We spent the afternoon playing and baking. Then in the early evening, we headed over to Grandpa's house for the weekly family barbecue. It just so happened that this fabulous holiday fell on our regular barbecue night, so my dad decided to go all out.

This is a half-scale replica of a civil war cannon, made by my grandfather

When I was a child, my grandfather and my father belonged to a club which had as one of its activities, regular themed camp outs called rendezvous. At a rendezvous, you camped with only clothing and equipment that would have been available to early Americans before a specified date. (which date I am uncertain of, precisely) With the notable exception of coolers with food and ice, and cans of beer. LOL I remember these events with great fondness. My cousin and I were probably around ages 4 and 6, and our grandma sewed us special dresses and bonnets to wear. We called them our Little House on the Prairie dresses. There were interesting characters, all manor of tents, fascinating clothes, and horses. I remember what a treat it was to walk to a neighboring tent where a friend of my grandparents sold two lemon drops for a penny. I remember my grandpa, Dad, and my uncle looking so handsome in their outfits. I remember the tomahawk throwing competitions, black powder rifle contests, and the highlight, cannon shooting competitions. I am told that Grandpa never lost a competition in which he entered the cannon pictured above, which he built himself. I remember the thrill of the cannon being shot. The excitement, the reverberation of the shot vibrating in my chest, the smell of the gunpowder, the waft of smoke. My grandfather suffered a massive heart attack when I was quite young. By the grace of God he survived, but he was forced to give up a number of activities he loved, including the rendezvous. That cannon hasn't been shot since 1986...until today!

When Dad announced last week that he had decided to shoot the cannon for the fourth, my cousins and I were instantly transformed into a bunch of eight year olds. I have been looking forward to this day ever since. But in the back of my mind there lingered a touch of apprehension about how Boo would react. I arrived at Dad's house a bit early to see if I could be of any help. He got up on a ladder and pulled down a large plastic back from the storage area in the top of his shop. He passed it down to me, and I peeked inside.

I looked in and there were Grandpa's rendezvous hats. It took me by such surprise. Dad hadn't told me he was getting them out. It was a great joy, but tinged with the pang of sadness. My grandpa left this world six years, one month, and one day ago. I miss him so very much. Looking in that bag, it was like he was with us again in a way. My heart jumped and I had to choke back tears. Happy tears, grateful for the wonderful memories he left me, with which to remember him. Soon the rest of the family arrived, and my cousins and I each chose a hat, and wore it the rest of the evening, in the spirit of the day.

When our dinner was done, we all headed out to gather around the cannon. We listened as Dad reviewed the safety rules and procedures. He called for the "powder monkey" and my youngest cousin did the honors. The steps were explained. First, a long stick with some material on the end (what looked like maybe wool? I didn't ask.) was dunked in a bucket of water and passed down into the cannon barrel for a "wet swab." Next, another stick with a sort of iron spiral on the end, known as the "screw" was stuck into the barrel, to pull out any particles that may have remained there from the previous shot. Then another wet swab. Wearing large fireproof protective gloves, the powder money holds the shot (a measured amount of gunpowder wrapped in a cone of aluminum foil of specific diameter) at the end of the barrel, and the rifleman pushes it to the back of the barrel with another stick-like instrument. (These all probably have technical terms of which I am unaware) Then, the firing thing (which I did know the name of earlier tonight, but have forgotten) is inserted into a tiny hole at the top of the barrel. When the firing thing is struck it creates the spark which ignites the gunpowder. Grandpa used to have a mechanism devised for doing so with the pull of a cord. That mechanism has gone missing in the long years since we last fired the cannon, so there was a bit of improvisation. Firing the cannon by hitting the top of it with an aluminum baseball bat might not be the most authentic, but it's a heck of a lot of fun! So we were all set to blow the first shot. I called Boo to me and covered his ears, and we let him do the countdown so that he knew exactly when to expect the noise and could feel in control of it. BOOM! Boo's eyes lit up, he smiled ear to ear and shouted "Do that AGAIN!" I was totally floored, and absolutely thrilled. He remained for the next five shots, holding his ears and providing a countdown for each. My dad, my uncle, and each of us cousins took our turns "at bat." It was exhilarating, and I know my grandpa would be so proud of us for putting his cannon to use once again. And for instilling the love of it to the next generation.

My aunt caught this amazing shot of my turn to fire! How cool is that?

After that, it was back to more traditional forms of Independence Day fun. My cousin introduced Boo to her favorite kind of firework, snakes! He really enjoyed them. He laughed and said they look like poop. Leave it to a five year old. LOL

The best part of snakes, apparently, is crushing them to bits with a stick when they are done.

At one point, Boo asked me how to spell Grandpa. Later I found this written in the sand. It doesn't show well in the picture, but it was awesome!

I also introduced Boo to colored smoke balls and poppers, both of which were a big hit. At dusk we broke out the sparklers. As soon as Boo's was lit he threw it on the ground and ran screaming. Once we showed him how to work them he loved them, but refused to hold them. But my cousins and I acted like the big kids we are at heart and had great fun with them. Then the barbecue broke up and we headed home to shoot off our own fireworks. Boo became even more excited as we drove into town and he saw all the bright sparks in the air all around. He kept talking about how much he loved fireworks and how pretty they are. We got home, got out our bags of explosives, filled our emergency water bucket, and waited for my cousins to arrive. But as the fireworks all around town began to reach a crescendo, so did Boo's anxiety. With every report, every squeal, every crackle, he grew more tense and fearful. Covering his ears was no help. We managed to get through only one of our fireworks before he was completely overwhelmed and ran crying into the house. I went in and set him on a chair in front of the large picture window, where he would have a view of our fireworks without the intensity of the noise. This lasted a little while, but eventually he lost it completely. I had to take a break and come in with him. He was running through the house shrieking, not able to find any place where the sound of the explosions outside was completely muffled. After a great effort, we got him settled in his bed, under his weighted blanket, with his leap pad game to drown out the other noises. He was still agitated, but he could tolerate it. I went outside with my cousins and we finished blowing stuff up, and then said good night.

It took me a while to quiet Boo enough for sleep. He was antsy and agitated, and every little noise was like poking him with a needle. Finally exhaustion took over and his eyelids fluttered closed. I lay beside him watching his precious face. I felt elated at all he had accomplished in the day. I mean, the kid watched a cannon being shot. A freaking CANNON. Multiple times. And loved it! That's HUGE in our world. But the key was that it was one shot at a time, he knew when it was coming, and he was given some control over it. When it came to the fireworks, the sounds and sensations were coming from everywhere at once. There was no reprieve, no time between explosions to reset himself, no way to know when or from where the next shot would come. And the joy of sharing this wonderful day with my son was also pierced with frustration. Not because I was frustrated at him  or by him. Rather, I was frustrated that something that is typically such a simple pleasure of childhood would, for him, have to be a source of pain and anxiety. And I wondered if next year would be a little better. In the end, though, I can't escape the fact that this day was a tremendous success. 





Someone Who "Gets It"

I got a phone call today from someone very dear to me. I have known this woman since we were children. We get to see each other once, maybe twice a year. She has a special needs child too. Her child's condition and needs are different from my son's, but as most of you know, there are certain aspects that are common to all parents of special needs kids.

There wasn't any one particular point to her call. She began by asking me about Boo's recent difficulties with "the itches." She said that she had described the situation to her child's therapist and asked for any insight they may have. And though the therapist hadn't offered anything concrete, just the fact that she had thought to ask for our sake moved me deeply. We talked at length about the various things we face and deal with because of the needs our children have. We talked about doctors, coworkers, friends, and family members. We talked about how we can be so grossly misunderstood as mothers, and how our children's needs can be misunderstood also. When we decline invitations to restaraunts, bowling alleys, crowded places and outdoor events because of our children, we are not being selfish, overly protective, or attention seeking. We know our children, and we know their limits. We know what sort of things can trigger problems for them, and we will remove them from those things before the problem makes itself evident to others. Just because you can't tell what the reason for our actions is, doesn't mean we don't have one.

We also talked about some of the comments and questions we receive from others who, for all that they are well meaning, are nonetheless ignorant. People who think they know more about our child's needs than we do, or who compare aspects of our children to themselves or to their own typically developing children. She told me of some of these comments she has recently dealt with. I told her that what sucks for me is that people have such good intentions. It sucks because when they make comments that are rude, ignorant, insensitive, or just plain wrong, I feel like getting all up in thier face and giving them a piece of my mind followed by a good sqeeze around the neck...but I can't...because they mean well.

But what really hit home for me during this phone call was that she said the reason for her call was not to discuss any particular person, issue or incident, but rather she just wanted to talk with "someone who gets it." Boy oh boy do I ever identify with that feeling! There are a great many people in my life and Boo's who love us, who know him and handle him well, who have educated themselves and who have walked this journey by my side from day one. And I am forever thankful to God that these people are in my life and his. But they don't get it. Not really. They try. They want to. They come really, really close. But the fact of the matter is, they can't get it. He's not their child. They can't get it any more than a person who has been blind from birth can really understand color, or someone who has been deaf from birth can comprehend music. It's something that you have to live, to experience, in order to really, truly, GET IT.

This does not mean that there isn't value in awareness. We still need to work to help the general public understand. With education comes acceptace, kindness, and empathy. With awareness comes a world in which our children have the space to just be who they are. But people who don't live it will never truly get it. And that is why we need each other. That is why community is so important. If you are new to this journey, I urge you to build a support system within the community. Join a support group, go to an online forum, build a facebook family, whatever it takes to create a bond with people who get it. Because one day you will need to make that phone call. And another day you will receive that call. (or email...or private message...) And in both cases, you will be so very very thankful that you have each other to whom you can reach out. To paraphrase Woody from Toy Story: "Special Needs Parenting Buddy...if you don't have one, GET ONE!"

Anniversaries, Cupcakes, Finances, and...Oh Yeah! Ryan Friday!

Overall, it's been a good week for us. Sunday happened to be the thirteen year anniversary of Boo's Dad and Boo's Mom saying I Do. :D We didn't do anything particularly special, although I did decide to order a pizza for supper so I wouldn't have to cook or clean up. The city in which we live has an event once a year called City Wide Clean-up. This is a week where you can put virtually anything at the curb and the city will pick it up and dispose of it for you. It is a big help for people like us who don't have a truck to haul large items to the dump. The only thing you can't get rid of is lawn/garden stuff like tree limbs. Inspired by this event, we decided to do something we've been putting off for a long time. We removed the nasty, stained, ancient blue shag carpeting from Boo's playroom. Thankfully, there was linoleum tiles underneath, so we don't have to be in any hurry getting the replacement carpet installed.

Later that afternoon, we took Boo outside to play with his new "pipes," an idea inspired by a fellow mommy blogger.

Monday was uneventful save for the hour that Boo and I spent on Skype with my BFF and her two children. Her daughter is the same age as Boo, and they just love making faces and showing each other their favorite toys.

Tuesday was a good day. I spent the afternoon baking cupcakes. I had a new awesome-sounding recipe I wanted to try for the family bbq. In the evening Boo asked to go to the park with the red slide. We spent a long time there, and he amazed me by climbing higher than ever before on all the playground equipment. He has always been afraid to go high in the past. Go Boo!

Wednesday was the rough day for me. It started pleasantly enough. I sat down at the table and balanced the checkbook and paid bills. Paying bills always makes my skin crawl. Without giving too much personal detail, I can tell you that it was disheartening. About an hour later, I received an email from an attorney whom we had hired last October to help us out with something. We'd had to borrow money from a family member for the retainer fee and in the end, the attorney fees exceeded that amount by several hundred dollars. We have still not been able to the remaining balance. The email was stating that the attorney was ready to file a suit against us for our failure to pay. I was able to make arrangements with him to make very small payments to keep it out of court, but the whole issue really opened my eyes. There are several family members we owe money to for personal loans and several creditors we owe also. We are not making any headway financially. My husband's new job is great, but we are barely keeping our heads above water. I had to pull my head out of the sand and face the fact that I must go back to work again. It cut me to my core. As much as it can drive me nuts some days being here at home with Boo, it is the most wonderful and rewarding thing I have ever had the privilege of doing. Giving it up feels like ripping the heart out of my chest. I spent a great deal of time crying.

Later, after I had discussed it with my mom and my husband and was feeling better, I set about making the frosting and finishing the cupcakes. It made me feel good to create something yummy and beautiful. The bbq itself helped too. It was so relaxing and fun to hang out with my family and to allow Boo to run around and play and wear himself out at Grandpa's house.

Thursday was wonderful too, as my mom came to visit for the afternoon. I hadn't spent time with her in so long! We had a blast, played, acted silly, and I helped her with some issues she was having with her computer. Boo was totally thrilled to have her here as well. I gave her one of the cupcakes to try and she was over the moon. She kept asking how much I could sell them for. I still have no idea. How much would you pay for one of these yummy pretties?

Cherry Limeade Cupcakes

And now, we have arrived at Friday. And you know what that means! Yep, it's "Special Needs Ryan Gosling" time! For more fabulous Ryan fun, click on the button at the bottom of this post and see all the other fabulous bloggers who are joining in. For my part, here's what Ryan had to say to me this week:

Oh Ryan, thank you. I just needed a big strong shoulder.

Why Ryan, you're making me blush!

You just never get enough, do you?

Click here to see all the other Ryans.





Have a great weekend everyone!

A Storm Brewing

It was a beautiful day. Boo and I had a great morning together. I got the yard mowed, and Boo and The Wiener Dog pretended to be superheroes while the lawn mower played the part of the villain. I had a nice bath and washed the grass off, and only at the very end did Boo attempt to climb in with me and insist on giving me toys. Because, you know, you are being deprived if you have no toys in your bathtub.

We made a quick trip to the local grocery store for a jar of mayo. Boo insisted on staying in the car while I ran inside. When I got back, I found him sitting in his seat with his chin on his chest. I asked him what was wrong. No answer. I asked again. No answer. "Booooo????" A small voice replied "I'm sleeping, stop bothering me." I stifled a giggle, then stage whispered to myself "Darn, I can't give Boo these chicken strips I bought him because he is sleeping." Grocery store chicken strips are one of his favorite things lately. Chin still on his chest, he reached one hand toward me and said with a sigh "I guess I'll take them. They help me to stop sleeping sometimes."

Back at home, Boo got busy playing with toys and imagining all sorts of games. His imaginative play is often structured like a computer game, complete with imaginary buttons he invites you to "click." I knew that the forecast called for storms in the evening. I noted that the clouds had begun to move in. Boo's normal complete inability to be still for two seconds hyperactivity was even more pronounced than usual. Boo's Dad arrived home for the first time in three days. Boo was ecstatic to see his dad. I set to work making a dish to take to the family barbecue later, and listened in to their play. Boo was scripting himself and his dad. He was creating races and had less than usual tolerance for deviation from his idea of how it should go.

Boo: "Dad, do you like car number 2?"
Dad: "Yeah!"
B: "No you don't."
D: "Ok."
B: "Dad, do you like car number 2?"
D: "No."
B: "Why not?"

later...

B: "Ok, Dad, the speed limit is 55, so you can drive that or slower. But not faster."
D: "Ok."
(Boo counts down and starts the race, and dad rockets around the "track" ahead of him.)
B: "NO Dad! You weren't supposed to go that fast!"
D: "I was only going 54."
B: "That's too fast."
D: "You said it was 55 or slower, so I went 54."
B: "No, it's only 5. I changed it."

The longer it went on, the more incessant Boo's chatter became. I was cracking up listening. Mostly because I was in a state of joy that there was another set of ears in the house again and it wasn't directed solely at me. Dad eventually went to attempt a nap before time for the barbecue. Next thing I knew, Boo was running circles around the house at top speed. He was a ball of pure energy, unstoppable and intense. I began to countdown the minutes till the barbecue began, longing for him to be able to run, climb, and pedal his way around the place.

Outside, the wind was picking up and the temperature was beginning to cool. I decided that Boo and I ought to change from shorts to pants. We changed clothes and I started gathering things together to get ready to leave. Boo wanted to take his toy Lightening McQueen with him but couldn't find it. He was screaming and upset, and refusing to go. It seemed like a meltdown was imminent, but suddenly he calmed and decided that rather than taking the plastic toy that had been on his birthday cake when he turned four, he could take the metal one he had been playing with just five minutes earlier. But we couldn't find that one either. It was a downright Lightning emergency. Finally it was located and we all headed out to the car.

For a while after we arrived, everything was perfect. Boo was playing happily. I was enjoying adult conversation. I realized I had forgotten to bring my dish, so I headed back into town to get it. On the way back I photographed this cloud bank moving in.

Shortly after I got back to my dad's house the wind picked up furiously and it started to rain. We moved inside the shop building, said a prayer, and began to fill our plates. Of course, there was nothing there that Boo would even consider eating. I had tried to get him to eat before we left home, but he only had three small strips of garlic cheese bread. He is usually content just to play outside while the rest of us eat but this time he was not happy about being cooped up in the shop. The floor in front of the shop doors was wet from the rain and Boo slipped and fell on the slippery concrete. He cried about his hip hurting, but soon got back up and insisted on walking back and forth in front of the doors repeatedly. After a few more falls I finally insisted that he stop walking in the wet area. So he decided to take up a campaign for going home immediately. He whined and begged the entire time I was trying to eat my meal. The main problem was that the seat of his pants was wet from his repeated falls on the wet concrete. But beyond that, he was simply bored.

I continually suggested that he choose from his selection of toys his grandpa keeps in the shop, but he refused. He decided that he wanted to play darts, and set about making the rounds among the family asking each one in turn if they were finished eating. He finally found someone to play with him and for a while his wet pants were forgotten. Later, as everyone was leaving, he found his tricycle and started riding circles around the shop at top speed, shouting "Look out, train coming through-woo!" I helped with cleaning up the place. But when it was time to leave Boo refused to get off the bike. It took repeated requests, and finally the threat of a swat to get him off the bike. He put it away but refused to leave. After having spent most of the evening annoying the daylights out of me begging to go home, when it was actually time to leave he was begging to stay. I had pulled my car around in front of the shop so we wouldn't have to walk far in the rain.

My husband was gathering our belongings as I attempted to get Boo to go to the car. He dug in his heels and his tantrum began to lean toward a meltdown. My nerves were hanging by a thread. The entire evening felt like a trial instead of a joy. I insisted, and he hit me. I swatted his backside and he hit meltdown status. I picked him up and asked my step mother to open the door for me. I carried him to the car, and had to force him screaming and flailing into his car seat. He was clawing at the seat belt trying to prevent me from buckling it, but I finally got it done. By then my husband was on his way out with both his hands full, so I opened his car door for him. As he sat down, Boo was furiously pummeling the back of the passenger seat with his feet and screaming like a banshee. I snapped at him to knock it off and he stopped kicking. As I walked around to my side of the car my step mom caught my eye from where she stood in the doorway of the shop and she remarked "You know, a wooden spoon works great for that."

I was tired, annoyed, stressed, standing in the rain, and ready to snap like a crocodile. I shot her the nastiest glare I could muster and shouted past her "goodbye Dad." Then I got into the car and drove us home. Boo continued his blood-boiling scream in the backseat for a couple minutes before it began to subside. He had smacked his finger on a table while pretending to be a train and now he suddenly decided this was a terrible injury. We arrived home and I got him settled with an ice pack on his finger and an episode of Spiderman and His Amazing Friends on the TV. He ate a bowl of cheese crackers while the show played, and afterward he happily transitioned to his bedtime routine and fell peacefully and soundly asleep. But the thunder in my mind and heart continued rolling long after the thunder outside faded into the distance.

"As the storm blows on, out of control...deep in her heart, the thunder rolls." 
The Thunder Rolls, Garth Brooks

Meet My Friend Maple

This is "Maple."

A few weeks ago, while playing at Mammo's house, Boo stumbled upon what has become one of his best coping tools. This simple unassuming character used to be a knee pillow for Mammo. It is made of memory foam, and was originally covered with a removable pillowcase. Boo discovered the zipper on the case, opened it, slipped his hand inside, and fell in love! He oooh'd and ahhh'd and marveled at the feel of it. He quickly removed the pillow case and proclaimed "I like how this feels, Mammo. I could just feel it all day." That evening he brought it home with him, and it has been his companion ever since.

He likes to get it out when he needs a bit of extra sensory input or when he feels particularly upset. He likes to squeeze it, smoosh it, push it into his chin, and hug it. Suddenly this morning, he began doing something new. He suddenly decided to anthropomorphize it! He gave it the name "Maple." He started giving it drinks of his juice and bites of his cereal. He began talking to it. He asked if he could take it to school. Considering the recent difficulties he has had, I thought this would be an excellent idea. I told him that he would have to leave Maple in his cubby during school, but that if he started to feel sad or upset or nervous, he could ask Mrs. K for a few minutes to "squeeze maple." He was excited about this plan.

When we arrived at the classroom, Boo was thrilled to show every classmate, Mrs. K, and several of the other moms his new find. He walked up to each of them and announced "This is my friend Maple. I like to squeeze him when I feel sad or nervous." He then stowed Maple in his cubby and sat down to stretch rubber bands onto a pegboard with his classmates. I was astounded at the change since last Friday! He never once argued with me about going to school. He never gave me a moment of trouble. Apparently he had a bit of trouble following the rules at school, but he didn't seem overly concerned about it. (usually all it takes is one stern word from the teacher to send him home broken hearted and declaring his hatred for school)

Tonight we had our first family BBQ of the season. (My family on my dad's side have a tradition of getting together one night each week during the summer for a BBQ/potluck meal, and it's one of my absolute favorite things about the season!) Boo didn't want to go, of course. He never does, though he always has a great time once we get there. To make matters worse, Dad made the cardinal mistake of starting an episode of one of Boo's favorite shows (Billy the Exterminator)  just before time to leave, without enough time for Boo to finish the episode before we had to leave. Because he was already starting a fit, I figured I'd better toss Maple in the car too.

Surprisingly, I didn't have hardly any trouble from Boo the entire evening. There was one moment, when it was time to eat, that he started to put up a fight. I suggested that he might want to go get Maple out of the car. He said no, then immediately huffed to the car and retrieved it. He then proceeded to introduce it once again to everyone present as "my friend Maple." He then set it on the table, and never again picked it up till we came home. He never gave me another moment of trouble the entire evening. So, while Maple may be a friend to Boo, he has suddenly become MY bff!

Update: A couple days after writing this blog post, I was watching Spiderman and his Amazing Friends with Boo. He watches episodes of this series by himself frequently. The episode we watched had a story of a lonely old man who was accidentally given special powers to make anything happen that he wanted. One of the first things he did was create for himself a friend who would never leave him. The friend was a cat, and it's name was Mable. Light bulb ON!