Tuesday, September 15, 2009
It's life, Spock, but not as we know it xxx
Bob has had a busy start to his school year (as any self-respecting Bob should have).
He has a new class mate, meaning there is now a grand total of 5 boys in his class...it seems when the new facility is ready, they'll have the capacity to teach up to 18 children. I find it a bit worrying to think that he might eventually have to share his 2 teachers and 3 SNA's with 17 other little 'un's, but for the moment all is very well and I'll have a proper little worry about that when, or if, the time comes.
We've been taking part in the Autism Genome Project, which surprisingly isn't a 70's progressive rock band, but a proper research project running in Trinity College. We had our blood taken a few months ago (Bob complained more about being held tight than the about the actual needle), and last week a lovely young psychologist called out to our house to ask us MANY questions about his development. It was kinda exhausting, but was a good excuse to remedy our woes with some medicinal shiraz.
The psychologist visited His Bobness at school last Thursday and spent 2 hours assessing him there. He managed to IQ test him (hurray! the last time we tried this he gave us a two-fingered autie salute by mentally projecting PFO messages to us...you can also see I have become psychic since his diagnosis). It seems we will be sent the results of this IQ test which will be (a) wonderful, if he turns out to be a Boy Genius, or (b) a Really Silly Test if it shows he is anything less than Einsteinian.
I am pretty curious to know what his IQ is, but ultimately it really doesn't make any difference. He's a happy little construction worker, and will continue to give us the most delicious cuddles while spitting hot chocolate down his jumper for a laugh, regardless of a number on a piece of paper.
He had a few unsettled nights lately, which caused my years of bragging about his fairly good sleeping habits to rear up and bite me on my comfortably squishy bum. I have grown to abhor Fireman Sam with an intensity usually reserved solely for the fiendish Barney (it pains me to even hiss his name). He has been waking anytime between 1 and 4 am shouting "UP!UP!" while taking my eye out shoving my glasses on my face...all because he wants to see a self-satisfied misogynist playing with his hose...is it possible I read too much into children's television?
After some brainstorming with Bob's Dad we decided on turning his bed into a haven of All- That- Is -Bob. So, following an emergency dash to Dunnes, the purchase of one Bob duvet set, a Bob fleece and the addition of a frighteningly large stuffed Bob resulted in a full night's sleep.
Fireman Sam is history. Long live Bob!
When we meet with Bob's teachers to discuss his IEP, we plan to encourage them to teach him accounting skills. The construction trade is not what it was, and he could use his skills more productively by rescuing his family from insolvency.
After he has saved his family, I plan to hire him out to the Minister for Finance, and when he has the country back in order (neatly lined up, of course), I will give him back his tool kit.
Posted by Jean at 10:00 AM