The other day I opened the fridge to get some salad makings out of the crisper drawer and Emmie, seeing her chance to get in some trouble, immediately crawled over to climb inside. When she saw the open drawer she started rummaging around in it like she knew what she was looking for. I threw some lettuce into bowls and turned around to check on her.



She was happy and quiet so I wasn't about to complain. She was also awfully cute so I grabbed the camera.

Next time I checked she looked at me with what could only be guilt on her face...and grapes in her mouth...



I just started feeding her grapes a couple of weeks ago and I have been OH SO CAREFUL to cut them into quarters so she doesn't choke on them, and here she is stuffing them into her mouth like they were CHOCOLATE or something. I googled "Heimlich Maneuver" and then let her go at it.



You like the off-the-shoulder look she's sporting? Yeah, it's classy.

After I wrote this post a few weeks ago, I sat down and had a meeting with myself about my goals for Thomas, how to handle bureaucracy without pissing off the People Who Make The Decisions and what to do about the whole school mess. Then, I made some phone calls and sent an email to the PWMTD. Here is an excerpt:

Dear {PWMTD},

I want to follow up on our conversation yesterday with an email to summarize my concerns with Thomas's school placement.

My main concern about {preschool A} is that Thomas would be the only non-mobile child there. While there may be other kids attending the school that receive physical therapy, Thomas is unable to walk or crawl. Thomas is also unable to defend himself or move away if another child walks up to him and wants his toy, or pulls his hair, or tackles him like his little sister does.

I want him in an environment where he can see other children using equipment to assist mobility so he can learn from them. I don't want him to think of himself as an outsider because he can't walk yet. It also makes me profoundly sad to think of Thomas just sitting while all the other kids are playing.

I think Thomas needs to be in a situation with his peers, children who have difficulties that more closely resemble his own. I am willing to keep Thomas out of preschool until a spot at UCP opens up rather than send him to a school where I worry about his safety.

I'm happy to report that it worked. Thomas starts PRESCHOOL next week at the UCP Center. Oh Happy Day! Except for the Thomas-starting-preschool part. I'm not happy about that at all. I mean, he's just a baby! To me he's still the tiny thing that came home from the hospital weighing under 5 pounds.




I still want to cuddle him and kiss his little head and smoosh his face in my hands, and he still lets me, for the most part. Well, not the smoosh his face part but that's understandable.

I ask myself where the time has gone and then I slap myself upside the head and say Self, remember the last three years? The ones full of pediatrician visits and specialist appointments and hospital stays and surgeries and a bajillion hours of therapy? Remember the sleepless nights and the tube-feeding by syringe because you were NOT by God going to have your child hooked up to another machine? Then remember the feeling of relief when you got that feeding pump and you realized how much better it was for everybody?

Those were all in preparation for this. For Thomas being ready for School and Learning and the Next Step. And I'm really excited for him. So next Wednesday, September 3, I will drive Thomas to preschool and I will *deep breath* leave him there. For three and a half hours. Ok, truth? I'm not really leaving him there - for the first couple of days I will stay and make sure he's ok because C'MON PEOPLE! I can't just DRIVE OFF the first day and pretend like I didn't just abandon my firstborn and then go get a latte at Starbucks!




Oh, by the way, school actually starts THIS week but I forgot to consider that when making our plans to go to the mountains with friends for Labor Day and whoops! He's going to miss the first week of school! Heh. Three years old and already a truant.

Whomp

"Studies have shown". Heh. Don't you love that phrase? Whatever follows seems a little more boring because suddenly you sound like an NPR announcer. But seriously! Studies have shown! That dads tend to play more roughly with kids than moms do!

Last night post-bath and toothbrushing we had both kids on our bed to start winding them down for bedtime. Emmie considers exploring the bed the most fun of all. She climbs the headboard and checks out the distance she will fall when she actually takes that header off the side that I'm convinced will happen one day. She got too close to the edge at one point last night and Hubs grabbed her by the feet and pulled her back to him, sliding her face on the sheets. I gasped. She giggled and crawled away. He grabbed her and pulled her back. She giggled some more and crawled madly away from him. A new game was born.

One time, instead of crawling away she sat up on her knees and wavered a bit. Hubs gave her a little push on the back and she flopped forward on her face. I gasped again. "You pushed her!"

Emmie laughed out loud.

She sat up again, turned her head to the side and cut her eyes back at Daddy. Smiling. Waiting for him to push her again.

Whomp.

He pushed her and she fell forward on her face. Crawled away and sat up on her knees again.

Whomp.

Whomp.

Whomp.

So much for winding the kids down for the night. By the time I blew the whistle on the games and held the closing ceremony, Emerson's face was red from being dragged on the sheets and her hair was standing up from her forehead. She was breathless from excitement. Thomas was agape at the whole display.

Thomas is a very, VERY cautious child. Pushing him forward on his face, even on a soft mattress, would send him into a crying fit, so this new, physical play with Emmie freaks me out a little. But she LOVES it so I'm adjusting. And I'm glad that this household has someone willing to push the envelope a little so that Emmie remains convinced that she is as fearless as she seems.