4th Birthday Party

Here we are, another year. Ummmm. Let’s see. My son is four years old now.

Haha. I usually do a yearly update post about where we are right now. But now that my son is four years old, it seems a little impossible to write a neat little narrative about what’s up in our lives.

Today he had his birthday party, and the turn out was, well, pretty typical. If anything, the party flow was pretty enjoyable and seamless, especially considering the professionals were teens working for minimum wage. In so many instances, it is so obvious that my son is different, but I’m actually a little taken aback by how well he fits in, playing with his classmates at a party.

I’m pretty sure he’s pretty good at reading. Haha. It’s hard to tell—I don’t know if he’s fucking with me. Sometimes I could see where he could pick up some context clues and take a pretty good guess—sometimes he’s clearly reading a word, with no information available other than text. Then again, could he be reading small words like “red” and “purple” but memorizing words like “microeconomics”? You never know because he’s a tricky bastard.

There ARE times when I get a little freaked out by his behavior. Sometimes it really does seem like he is just in his own little world. He talks to his finger like an imaginary friend and, heh, I don’t know. It was cute, but it didn’t stop. And, then, I don’t know, his eyes will glaze over and he will sound like he’s whispering to someone, like he’s having a conversation with someone, and it’s really freaky. It SEEMS like he’s completely losing touch with reality. I SUPPOSE it could be as simple as a stim, a script, something I don’t recognize or understand, and so I just don’t get it. Freaky, tho.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m too complacent, but it’s hard to sweat the small stuff. Kid can’t put on his shoes without help. He only asks questions he already knows the answers to. We are just starting to make progress with verbal sequencing and telling a story. Sometimes I think he’s a little lonely, and ultra sensitive. (Shrug) But he orders his own food at restaurants. He’s a whiz on the computer.  He’s excitable, and has a passion for life. He’s really fricken hilarious, and has a smart mouth. He argues with me about who is better—Kesha or Britney. He’s friggen WRONG, by the way. It’s Britney, bitch. I don’t know what his problem with Kelly Clarkson is, he just don’t like her.

Ha. So, shit. I don’t know. Autism schmautism. Flippant, right? Temporary. Hyperbolic. Maybe. Things just seem pretty, er, pleasantly unremarkable right now. Hey, it happens sometimes. I’ll gladly take whatever Easy the universe wants to send my way.