Hint of what we've been up to, until I have a minute to blog

And Happy Solstice!

Happy Father's Day

To JoeyAndyDad, because he is so awesome
Because he loves his boys with all his heart, and al his might
To a Dad who pushes his boys to be the best they can be
A Dad who teaches his boys new things- like drinking from cup, or setting a table
A Dad who goes to IEP meetings, and scrutinizes them at every report card day
A Dad who loves to hug his boys, and read to them at night, and squish them all day.


To my Uncle Lou, because he understands
For his patience and acceptance of our guys
And his willingness to give them the time they need
And the hugs they want.

Happy Father's Day!

Hmmmmm... The Issue of Recognition

When I was in fifth grade, the great goal of the "gifted" set was to be on the Safety Patrol. To wear that sash and badge and help direct the little ones to their buses was the mark of honor, the reward we got for putting up with a good deal- jibes and teasing from classmates for being nerds and curve-breakers, the scrounging of the over-acheivers and their busybody parents (helicopter parents are not as new as some would have you believe), and the work involved in learning and doing extra work that was often assigned to keep us busy. Being socially isolated on top of that, I took great pride in showing myself to be somebody by wearing that badge. I had the extra knock in fifth grade because I didn't test into the highest math group (in the tests, though every single I gave was accurate, apparently I did not do the problems quickly enough...), making me a social pariah even among the gifted group as "not good enough."*

When one is doing a lot of work and getting very little reward or seeing very little use in it, little things like awards and certificates and hearing your name called can be a huge deal- especially when you are a child.

Seared into my memory is that day I was not made a patrol for a whole six weeks of the fifth grade. My whole little world was aimed at maintaining my position, perhaps to be eventually made Captain! But no, I was knocked aside- with only one B on my report card (my handwriting sucked)- for a girl with all Cs, and one who was particularly good at making it clear I was none too socially included in my class- I was too tall, too plain, too fat, and too bookish.

I remember the teacher sending me out of the room, because I actually started to cry. Did she have any idea what a disaster had befallen me? No, she had no clue. I got a lecture about how I was supposed to be so mature, how she needed this award to go to this girl who had worked so hard to get that all-C report card. How I would have this honor many times, and this might be the only chance this girl got. Oh yes, I remember. I could quote you the conversation exactly if I didn't think you'd find it boring. And I reacted like a 10-year-old might, left to pull myself together in that hall and chew on my disgrace among my peers, alone. To be honest, it still makes me tear up, that's how horrible it was. After all... I was ten years old. The reverberations from that disgrace actually did follow me for the rest of my school years, forever on the fringe.

At ten, I comprehended what the teacher wanted, and why this had happened. My brain processed it coldly, and still chews on it now. Someone else needed a reward. They needed something to work for. They needed a goal, a carrot before their nose. And apparently, I was undeserving of that. My work was worth nothing compared to the needs of another. My needs were not as important as another's. Clearly, my own pain was a frivolity, my own position of less worth. Why would a child who has talent need a reward for those talents?

We can, as adults, probably see clearly why that girl needed that safety patrol badge more than I did; I can already tell you who will tell me so, either in the comments or the emails I will get later, about how petty and childish it is to dwell upon that moment, or still feel it painful to do so. Certainly, that teacher did what she needed to do to help that other girl- she rose to be Captain of the Patrols (what a miserable six weeks that was for me), and a decent student through high school. I can sit here and reason it out and provide solid logic for it. None of that adult reasoning does anything to help a ten-year-old girl, I can tell you, especially one who was still considered new and trying to fit into social circles enough to at least not feel alone.


Joey came home today with his awards from school (we didn't go to the ceremony because he was at Mt. Vernon- he got his awards when they got back). He has certificates that say he knows multiplication 0-4, and 0-9. Woo. Hoo. He's known those for almost two years now. He had a nice Health Award, and a Most Improved Participation in Music award.

And that is what he got. No math. No reading.

Kinda makes you wonder about who gets awards and how it is determined, doesn't it? Your top math student gets no math award? What's that about? Do people not understand what powerful reinforcement these awards can be?

Trust me, I just spent a lovely twenty minutes hearing all about it. The field trip to Mt. Vernon? I had to pull teeth to get anything about it. That two other students got math awards, and he didn't? I know all about it. And I assure you, I will be giving him lots of hugs and kisses and working hard to make him understand how proud I am of him tonight. After a year like he has had, to have no recognition of his strength in math before his peers is, I know well, searing. Already being the only top math student not in the gifted program, plus being disabled with social interaction issues, is quite bad enough, without this. Add into it the loss of the spelling bee. And after the year he's endured? Come on, let him know you are proud of his academics. It's not like its even being a patrol- all it costs you is a piece of paper. Seriously.




*And just a little fault of vindictiveness here, boy did I prove that to be a joke when I became the youngest captain of the high school math team as a junior.

Kittehs Available to Good Homes

A neighbor has five lovely little kittehs up for adoption. If you are in the Baltimore-Washington-Richmond corridor/area and need a nice babeh kitteh, drop me a line, I'll hook you up with a little sweetie-petitey.

We Have A Winner

With the end of the school year comes those awesome awards ceremonies, where you get to see your kid get an award for being awesome. Last year, Andy got no awards. He was very upset, and I didn't blame him, since he worked very hard all year. But that is how it goes with awards- not everyone gets one.


This year, he got three.

Andy earned his Excellence in Reading and Excellence in Math awards, which are based on the testing the schools do. The Reading one also considers if you choose to read or write when you have spare time. What was super-cute is when they asked "and who will be doing lots of reading this summer?" he hesitated before tentatively putting up his hand... half-heartedly. Hmm. But don't worry, I have some awesome books for him for the summer, we should be fine. The math award is more rare than the reading one, so that was pretty cool.

He also got the Good Citizenship award- the one you get when you have behaved yourself all year and been a good friend to everybody. Suspiciously, the bully we had to contend with this year also got Good Citizenship. Hmmm...

I am super-proud of my soon-to-be-second-grader. He is awesome, and worked hard this year to be super-awesome. Go, Andy!!!

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

It was Joey's last game of the season. How quick was that? Andy went out to play, too.


Joey is really running, now. There is something lovely about running those bases, especially with an awesome buddy!


Andy likes to field with the best of them! Especially looking cool.


Joey fields the ball.


Andy going for a ball He's pretty good at getting it to one of the real players, so they can throw it to first or home.


Joey and Andy make a great fielding team!


Andy got the ball a few times this game (sometimes he doesn't get one, and feels sad.)


Joey makes a sharp-looking outfielder, too.


He also played first base. No catcher today, it was too hot for anyone to put on the pads.


Joey got two excellent hits today! (We only played two innings.)


Joey gets on base.


Andy taking a break in the dugout. There must be other Little League games today, because the Little League set up its concession stand while we were there. Andy got some cool candies.


Joey, about to be safe at home! Go Joey!

We will miss you, Challengers! See you in the Fall!

Snickers is not just a candy bar. Unfortunately.

It happens to kids at all ages, all abilities, all over. The snickering. A little knot of kids glances at you, lean together, and it begins. You just know there is something about you that they think is weird, odd, ugly, funny. What really gets you is that they have their own quirks, and would be just as hurt if the snickering was about them.

Some kids get more snickering than others. I remember the snickering myself, the tall fat girl who knew too much. The curvebreaker. The weird kid. It can be very hard to see it so obviously aimed at Joey, to hear what the snickers are: Weird kid. Retard. Fat. Stupid.

Most of the snickering is a passing thing. Like driving along the road, I hardly even notice it anymore, registering as ignorant person is here-snickering-gone-forgotten. The effort needed to interrupt and educate would be seen only as further annoyance, the lesson lost on those who couldn't care less what pain they cause. The weird kid's mother is saying something, but it sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher: "wa wa wawa waaaaa."

Yet they stick like little pins, even in good times. Especially in good times.

A child, older, at the Beach Party. Joey said hello. The kid responded off-handedly, then mumbles something to a friend. Did I blanche at hearing those terrible snickers fall from the lips of a child Joey bothered to speak to, called by name? The friend says, "hey, that's the kid's mother!" and the kid turns his face to me. There is no point in saying anything, the child might be eleven, he knows his words are not something he would want "that kid" 's mother to overhear. I restrain myself to simply glaring at him. He stares back, he doesn't know what to say or do. I pass him to go say something about a picture Joey has drawn. Hint, kid: if you wouldn't want the kid's mother to hear what you are saying, you should be thinking hard about why are are saying it. Or thinking it. Or how you would like it if someone said that about you to someone else. Especially in front of your mother.

Two boys, nine? ten? one might be eleven? playing at the pool. The youngest says hello to Joey. Joey is absorbed in his own activity of shoveling water and barely responds. They move away from him- but if I can hear it, Joey can hear it. Weird kid from school, that's what he is to them. They play a sort of odd play with him-shun him pattern most the afternoon. I'm not sure he notices, he is busy with his own play, and seems unperturbed when they swim away from him after addressing him. He has a friend to play with, a girl with Downs, the boys refer to them as the "retarded kids". I probably turn purple. If I get up and fuss at them, would they hear me? Would they care? Would their parents simply back them up? I know these boys, I have seen them at the pool before and the playground, and I know the answers to these questions. Consequently, I save my breath. There are plenty of other kids for Joey to play with, he steers clear of them, he knows.

These aren't run-of-the-mill child-jibes. This is serious. My child is going to have to go through his life dealing with these people, because there are people who believe it is OK to make fun of people with disabilities. They think people like my son are of less value than themselves, or think so little of themselves that they want to devalue Joey in an attempt to inflate their own. People believe that to be disabled is to be broken, to be less, to no longer be worthy of being human, or even having the right to live. People see no value in including those with different abilities and challenges, fail to learn the lessons of understanding, acceptance, faith, perseverance, strength, and hope that my child has to offer- in addition to the lessons he offers in reading, writing, and arithmetic, those all-important school subjects. To so many, Joey is a waste of time, a waste of money, a waste of resources, a waste of breath. Those many miss so much, lost in their ignorance, spreading it to their friends, their neighbors, their children. They don't understand that it is wrong, because they have been taught by our society that it is OK to snicker. Everyone snickers. Everyone gets snickered at. We all learn to just cope with it- ignore them, or worry about them, or poo-poo them, or whatever. What's the big deal?

Those standing in similar shoes as mine know exactly what the big deal is, as we struggle to teach our children to cope, as they don't just "pick it up" and are at a loss to defend themselves. The cry of "get thicker skin!" is such a sad one, a cry of of despair, one that shows complete ignorance of where I stand or the challenges my child faces. Trying to communicate the problem sounds incredible to those who are ignorant of it. We all get teased, it's what kids do, learn to deal, all kids have to, its a phase, they'll get over it. It is like trying to explain the difference between a tantrum and meltdown. The difference between a picky eater and a neophobe. The difference between a child wanting a toy to hold and a child needing a toy to hold. The limitations of human language become frustrating, but waxing mythic doesn't help. Most people don't want to think about things on the slant, don't want to deal with narrative metaphor. We seem to think it a deficit when autistic people only think concretely, but when non-autistic people can't move beyond the concrete, it's our problem that we can't communicate.

Then they snicker about how stupid we are. How's that for weird?

The Good is in the Eye of the Beholder

Joey's school had an awesome end-of-year Beach Party yesterday. They had crafts, two moon bounces, an area for chalking up the sidewalks, a raffle, free drinks and snacks, and a DJ for dancing (who did an excellent job selecting music and being appropriate and silly). Party it up for summer!


Joey enjoyed the chalk. He liked drawing Angry Birds and writing things like "I love Dad" and "For ages 7-12 with adult." Whenever it got overwhelming inside, he did a pretty good job of going out and bouncing or writing. He also made himself an ultra-cool Angry Birds pinwheel. Self-regulation win! Our only brush with a real meltdown was right at the start. There were some super-sized beachballs for the kids to play with, and Joey was playing with one. Some of the bigger kids came along and knocked it away from him so they could play with it all over the dance floor. Joey was, naturally, upset, especially since the bigger kids were not interested in letting him play, too, but were concerned with knocking it away from each other. Hence, the distraction of making the Angry Birds pinwheel, and our first trip outside to discover the chalk and moon bounces.

With the dance floor so loud, I was very pleased to see the school also have quieter areas for the kids to retreat to, such as the crafts and the outdoors chalk and bouncers. It worked perfectly!


I won't say it wasn't hard to watch him, though. All the other kids were dancing, laughing, shouting at each other, tangling and mingling and getting into groups. There was lots of line dancing, which Joey showed some interest in but clearly couldn't keep up with (I may track down some of the songs and see if I can teach him the steps, though there was one called the "Cha Cha Slide" and that, when they told you to "cha-cha", the step everyone did was not a cha-cha, but a cross box-step. Kinda weird.)

Anyway, otherwise, Joey pretended the floor was sand and that he was a dunebuggy or a car, with his pinwheel as the steering wheel, and walked circuits around the dance floor, ignoring everyone (including his best buddy who followed him around trying to get him to dance). One exception- early on, about half a dozen little girls saw him, squealed as if he were a rock star, and joined into a huddle of hugging him. Over the course of the evening, these young ladies each did their best to get him to dance, made sure he met their parents, and often gave him hugs if they found him (and he's return the hug quickly before driving off).

I let him know that if he wanted to leave, he was welcome to do so. He did go outside a few times. However, he spent most of his time doing circuits in a room that was clearly overwhelming for him- dark with flashing lights, lots of people moving, and incredibly loud music. He knew his friends were there. He knew that is was a party, and he was supposed to be having fun. He wanted to be there. He wanted to see his friends, and be part of the party. He did his best to cope and be a part of the party.


Towards the end, as he got very tired, he and his buddy grabbed a hula hoop, sat down, and pretended to be Porky Pig at the end of a Looney Tunes cartoon. They laughed. They enjoyed themselves.

I won't say it wasn't hard to watch him doing circuits when everyone else was dancing and interacting. It was hard to see him ignore the world and be alone in a sea of people.

But he had friends, who tried very hard to include him. They were happy he was there, and he was happy to see and be with them. Joey had fun. He was happy. His way.

We are SO going to this thing next year.

At the Faire

Took Andy to the Virginia Renaissance Faire this weekend. Joey didn't want to go. He was worried people would chase him. Andy and I had a really good time, though!

After the Fact

I was hugging those boys today, and thinking how proud I am of them. They have lives so different from what I had thought they might have, so different from my own, with challenges I never imagined when I was young. They come through with the grace and dignity and strength that takes my breath away sometimes.

My grandfathers and grandmothers never knew my boys. That seems somehow really strange. My last grandparent died two and a half years before Joey was born. Pop Conway would be proud of my boys. I do my best to make them all proud. They show respect to other people as they can (hey, they are only 7 and 9)- please and thank you and bright smiles go a long way in a world where they seem to be fading from general use, especially in young children. Joey is smart and sweet and ready to help his friends and please his teachers. Andy cares for his brother, loves animals and gardens and light sabers, always ready to include new friends. People remember my boys when they meet them, they have presence and character. There are skills that come from parenting, which combine with solid character and personality to create good little people.

We work on those challenges of growing up together. We work on the hiccups and potholes and trips and falls.

Andy wanted a snack at bedtime, and was told that wasn't appropriate. He had eaten dinner, and hadn't asked for more, only an hour before. He was actually hungry, and not just bored and trying to prolong bedtime, and blew up. What other stresses were in play? He went upstairs dutifully, but with his mouth going.

"I hate Mommy!" we heard quite clearly downstairs, as we prepared to go up. He was instantly recalled, and affirmed that he meant this, and was sent back upstairs with no prospect of a bedtime story.

He figured out really quickly that he was in trouble. Bath was done in record time. There wasn't a peep from that room until Joey was done his own bath, then a little boy creeping to the top of the stairs.

"What do you need, Andy?" JoeyAndyDad stopped the little feet coming down.

"I want to hug you," came the little voice.

Dad put an apple in his pocket and headed up to have a chat.

"Your Mommy loves you. That really hurt her feelings," I heard, and waited. There were tears, remorse, grief. Down he came to tell me he loved me and get hugs and kisses. I told him I loved him and gave him all the hugs and kisses he wanted. Back up he went.

"Did you tell her you were sorry?"

"No."

"Get your bottom back down there!" JoeyAndyDad ordered in a loving, almost teasing tone. Down he came again.

"I'm sorry I said I hated you," he said in a small, teary voice. I hugged him more, kissed him.

"I know. You'll learn soon to only say things you mean," I assured him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And up went that little man, just a little more grown up.

Happy Anniversary to Us

Fourteen years ago, right this moment, JoeyAndyDad and I were partying it up with our friends as a new married couple.

We're thinking of all of our friends, old and new, and raising a glass to you.

Happy Birthday, Andy!

Can you believe that Andy is now seven? Where did the time go? And who is this tall, handsome dude in my house?

Andy had, i think, a lovely birthday. He started off as bat boy and buddy at Joey's baseball game. He likes being included in the games. We actually gave him the option to not go, but prep for his party instead, and he chose to go help his Joey. That's our birthday boy!

We gathered for cake and ice cream in the back yard after lunch. We had an awesome Darth Vader piñata (our theme today was Star Wars Ninja Pirates), with candy, super balls, parachute dudes and ninja dudes in it. That was hit. I am definitely doing the piñata thing again next year. Maybe I'll have time to make it myself, though- they're a little pricey.

Joey was the one who broke the piñata. It was pretty cool.

Andy decided to try the dark side out for size. Well, at least Darth's helmet and face from the piñata. He had spent the morning asking if he could wear it, and we kept telling him no, but we hadn't planned on it failing catastrophically. Since it did, he got to wear it after all.

So we spent an afternoon in the yard, defeating the Evil Bubbles of Doom, playing with moon dough (which I recommend- it is pretty cool stuff) and general hub-bub of wild playing-with-our-friends. It was pretty awesome. And I periodically punctuated the frenzy by adding more sugar.

We had ice cream sandwiches of different flavors (neapolitan was a favorite), candy in the piñata, and of course, cake. Andy asked for a yellow cake with chocolate icing. Nearly blew me over. He doesn't usually like chocolate. He got it, and ate it, so hey, I'm not complaining. I put the ninjas on the cake since the rest of the decor was Star Wars, with a splash of pirate tossed in. I hoped the blue marchmallow stars would be spacey enough to connect it. Who cares, it all get eaten, marshmallows being bonus. And everyone wanted a ninja.

Andy got lots of cool stuff. He still has a couple things he didn't open, but we wore him out. He'll have fun opening them in the morning. He got plenty of awesome legos, nerf guns, Star Wars stuff, and these weird little plastic things with faces that come off. Seriously. No clue what they are called, but they sell them alongside the trading cards. He's been wanting them for weeks.

So, Happy Birthday, my little man. We love you.

Hail, hail...

You don't often see hailstones around these parts, so when we heard them come crashing into the house, we of course ran outside to see them. They were pretty good size, too- about the size of largish peas. Big enough to be impressive, nt large enough to do serious damage.


Andy thought they were delicious.

New Friends Around the Corner

We have made an auspicious discovery- a couple of very nice kids we often see at the park, and who was on Andy's soccer team, live around the corner. We haven't known this before because the kids are homeschooled, so we didn't see them at the bus stop or at school activities; we knew they lived in town, but not so close.

We discovered this yesterday when the boy (who is about Andy's age), was coming up the street. Andy ran to say hello, and M announced, "T (his sister) is roaming free!" We agreed to help look for her, as we know the panic of not knowing where your child is. The result was I had Andy going one direction, Joey going the other, and only one of me. In the end, we all ended up at M's house, and T was found safely fast asleep on a couch, missed because she was next to a pile of folded afghans.

Andy is ecstatic. So is Joey, for these kids actively try to play with him, and they like to hug. Also, there is a baby, To, and Joey has been showing him things and "taking care of him."

We had another playdate today, It was supposed to be here. It was like a tornado was raging in the house. It was fabulous, if breathtaking. But I learned a lot.

For one, if I forget to lock the front door, trouble ensues. These kids don't quite understand, and run freely in and out of doors, and have no clue why that might be a problem. As Joey got tired and excited, he got touchy- and bolted. They figured out he was running and I was trying to catch him, and handled that pretty well. After all, To likes to run, too.

Two, Joey bolted straight for M and T's house. I gave them our phone info in case it happens again. They were very kind, and the playdate shifted to their house. T's room is all in orange, and Joey liked that a lot. Its also someplace new to explore, which can be very exciting.

New friends are always a delight, and I hope we get to play together alot. The mom is awesome, and has lots of interesting ideas about children and learning and playing; I may not agree with everything, but it is always interesting to hear a new perspective. I am thinking we might have a good party in the making, as there are several other kids on the street we know from school and whatnot now. Besides, anybody that shows this much patience and acceptance of Joey has turned out to be totally wonderful. I'll keep you posted!

Missed Blogiversary

Oopsie, I forgot to toot the horn on the 9th for my blogiversary. And it was a big one- five years!

Five years ago, I was a mom getting bearing in a sea of anxiety, misinformation, discrimination, and panic. I saw others floundering all around me. I decided the information I had might help somebody else who was feeling lost, alone, scared, angry, disappointed, and floundering. I picked up my blog account from a blog I didn't make a go of, and started writing.

It was cheaper than therapy.

Joey was four years old. He was still in preschool. He had been going to preschool for two years. He was still mostly non-verbal- every word, every sentence was celebrated here, with you. Our school situation was in IEP crisis mode. We still get that. Our lives were dominated by Oobi, Pinky Dinky Doo, Little Bear, Potty Power, and yellow school buses. Meltdowns were a daily thing, so much so that they went unblogged.

The contrast in those early posts between Joey and Andy was so marked- Andy could talk, Andy could interact, Andy could point. He was only two years old.


It's been a long road, and we look forward to the overgrown thicket of a road ahead. Hopefully we can improve on the pruning of the folks who blazed the trail before us. My boys are the most awesome people, and I just want the whole world to be warmed a little from their sunshine, especially on the cold and raw days that so many of us struggle through.

Thank you for all the positive support and comments that have kept us snuggly on our bitter days. Feel free to make yourself at home on the comfy couches of this corner of the internet!

House Rules

So we're working on a new system for helping the boys understand expectations: pick up the toys, don't kill each other, that sort of thing. So we took them to Friendly's, sat down with french fries and paper, and hashed out what we think is fair and helpful. We wanted no more than ten rules, and if they get through the day obeying those rules, they get a check or a sticker or something. And in the end, if they earn enough checks or stickers or something, they get a Prize Box. Woo-hoo!

Here is what we've come up with:

Make the bed every morning.
Except for apples and water, ask for food or snacks.
Don't do anything that makes anyone else scream or say "ouch".
The bathroom floor must be clear and dry after any bath.
Keep hands and feet to yourself.
Speak respectfully to everyone, using only respectful words.
Do what is asked, right away, and with a smile.
Treat others as you wish to be treated.
Homework first.
All toys must be taken upstairs and put away at bedtime.


This is kind of a first draft, but not bad for being discussed over ice cream.

The lady at the next table actually stood up as they were leaving and kindly expressed approval of our boys, of our parenting, and how we were discussing the matter. How's that for awesome?

Rampion, Rampion...

For our first serious venture into gardening, we decided on lettuce, turnips, and radishes. The lettuce is ready, and the radishes are ready. They are the most beautiful radishes I have seen ever, and big ones, too. I'm impressed. That's what happens when you fill your old sandbox with miraclegro potting soil and plant radish seeds in it, I guess. We have a serious bumper crop of big, beautiful, red radishes.

Unfortunately, the boys have decided they don't like radishes. (The lettuce is still loved by Andy, but if you want some, come help yourself.) So... what does one do with a bumper crop of radishes? I am seriously considering learning to carve those cute little flower garnisher thingees. I have plenty to practice on.

A Bit Of Spring

Some Advice To Parents In Making the World A Little Nicer

Based on observations and situations from this past week.

1. Teach respect in all situations.

If you teach your kid it is OK to rejoice in an enemy's death, you'd be surprised how quickly that translates to spitefulness and rejoicing in victory over anyone they decide is even mildly annoying. Treating others the way you would want to be treated is a basic lesson in respectful values. If you don't want anyone to dance on your grave, don't have a party on someone else's. I don't care what they did. Don't stoop to that level.

2. Don't use the word "retard."

Or "nigger". Or "spic." Or "fag." Or any other word intended as immanently offensive to another group or person. It isn't funny, it isn't casual, and I do not care who you are or how you think you are using the word. When you teach kids that "retard" is OK to use when you think something is dumb, stupid, ugly, nasty, etc. then you should not be surprised when they start treating people they regard as "retarded" or who act differently as if those people are dumb, stupid, ugly, nasty, etc. If you use these words in any way, don't be surprised when they start bullying kids they view as not even human beings- because that is what you taught them- with any of these ugly words. With rights comes responsibility, and we in this country have the awesome and wonderful right of free speech- and the awesome responsibility that comes with it.

3. Be aware of your child.

Home is not the only place kids pick up bullying and nastiness. Their own insecurity makes them sensitive to language and behavior of others. Pay attention. If another parent approaches you with an issue, address it immediately. Be sure your child understands what is acceptable and what is not. Would your child want to be ignored on the playground? Would they want to be called an ugly word? Would they want their pretend play laughed at and scorned by others? Would they want others throwing sticks or mulch at them? No? Then they shouldn't be doing these things. Would they want others to help push them on the swing? Would they want other kids to invite them to play, and explain the game to them? Would they want others to say hello to them? Would they like it if others shared their toys with them? Yes? Then they should be doing these things. Kids need help negotiating this, because they are developmentally wired to be selfish as natural self-preservation. Reminding them to treat others as they wish to be treated is an excellent way of helping them understand that other people have feelings and peers make potential friends.

4. Be aware of other children.

Is your child being bullied, picked on, teased, ignored? We can't control what others do, but we can control ourselves. Teaching your child appropriate responses to unsocial behavior and language helps that child understand how to show respect in all situations- including unfortunate ones. Steer clear of other children who are mean to you. Recognize when they are being mean and let adults know there is a problem. KNow who your friends really are. Peers have a potential of being friends, but not all of them are friendly. I have a Plan B whenever we go to the park, because there are some families that simply do not get the idea of treating other people with respect, and think it is funny or "just being boys" when their child is mean and ugly to other children. When I see them coming, we just leave.


What would the world be like if we showed respect to other people, no matter what?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMMY!!!

Happy happy birthday to the most awesomest Mommy that ever ever was, the coolest, most wonderful Grandma ever, and one of the most fantastic ladies you'll ever meet (and probably the nicest).

I love you, Mom. Thank you for being supportive, understanding, caring, and snuggly.




I love you 44.