Thomas Reads to Frederick

The past few nights just before bedtime Thomas has been reading to Frederick and Frederick has been loving it. Thomas craves any chance to perform (anyone remember him singing and playing the guitar naked when he was 5 years old?) and Frederick loves any performance that has soul and, since Thomas's are particularly zesty and imaginative, Frederick gives him his undivided attention.

Here Thomas is reading "We're Going on a Bear Hunt" (one of Frederick's all time favorites) and has just delivered the line "It's a Bear!!!" which is why Frederick is so wound up. (Notice slighty peevish expression on Thomas as my camera work interrupted his "flow," apparently--sheesh, these prima donnas are so flighty.) Yes, that's one of the gray rats in Frederick's hand--the same one that is in his hand in the Christmas card photo. Thomas got a whiff of it last night and moaned, "Eww, it smells like old cheese!"--and this was just a few hours after it had been through the new washing machine!
Ergh. The photo is out of focus because Life hates me right now and I don't have time to take my camera (my NIKON!!!--this should NOT BE HAPPENING!) to a camera shop in Fenton to find out why the auto-focus does not work. Of course, if my eyes worked, then I wouldn't have this problem, either...

New Washer and Dryer

For more than a year Simon and I have been arguing (debating) about whether or not to get a new washer and dryer. The dryer started to go first. Just over a year ago it started making a horrific whining noise when we used it that you could hear even if outside. It was nerve shattering and, considering that there are days that I do 2 or even 3 loads of laundry (and almost always have to use the dryer because it is either below freezing outside or bucketing with rain), the dryer is needed almost every day. Then about six months ago the washing machine started making a horrific 'thunking' noise whenever it was being used, always ended up off balance and then would start "walking." So for each load (and usually two or three times per load) I would have to run downstairs and recenter the load so the pathetic thing could spin the water out without flinging itself across the room. Then about a month ago the dryer knob broke off in my hand and so could no longer be used at all. Finally, unable to put it off any longer, I headed to Home Depot to see what was on sale.

Here are the latest sorts of things--apparently very EUROPEAN!!--front loading washers and dryers! The saleman assured me that those Europeans have been using such things for some time and they really do work PLUS they use less water AND, get this, don't walk about the place. Well, sounds like just what we needed. The only problem was that everyone else was so excited about buying big appliances before Christmas that they couldn't possibly deliver until December 28th--so we had another month without a dryer. Grr. (Here's the solution: very tiny loads that I then hung up in the furnace room with several fans and space heaters going full blast--is it any wonder our electricity bill shot up $200 last month?) And, while Simon was in Boston, the big day finally arrived. Here they are:

Hmm. They really make the rest of the room look icky. I think we should move them up into a better part of the house. The first time I ran them I couldn't hear them do anything and wondered if perhaps them didn't work. The weird part is that I don't set the timers for either--each machine "senses" how long to wash and dry each load.

Boston!

Well, as a blizzard hits the East Coast and thousands of flights are canceled, I set out merrily to interview people in a hotel in Boston for a job teaching Philosophy at Flint. Sadly, my flight was not among those canceled, but as we were landing in what I would characterize as SEVERE turbulence in Boston I very much wished it had been. But here I am, sitting in the Lobby of the Westin in Boston (because they charge you ten bucks a day for internet in your room, but it's free in the Lobby - explain that to me) updating you on my exploits. I hope you appreciate it.
The trip was a strange one: a tiny 'plane took me from Flint to Milwaukee (which, the astute among you will realize is in the wrong direction) and then a slightly larger 'plane, which charged for EVERYTHING ($20 to check on bags, $8 to watch a six-month-old film on a 5 inch seat-back screen, God knows what for anything to eat) carried us into the heart of the tempest.
Here you see the view out of the window from the luggage carousel at Logan Airport in Boston, and the explanation for the turbulence.

As I took this, the wind was literally howling at earsplitting levels.

Fortunately there are hamster tunnels everywhere, so once inside you never need exit, and I took this photo from one of them. Tomorrow I will be interviewing sweaty Philosophy Graduate students from 9 AM until 4:30 at half-hour intervals. Joy.

Sledding

On Friday Simon took both Thomas and Frederick sledding at the park nearby. Since Emily has been taking Frederick sledding every day for weeks, Thomas had mentioned that he has been feeling left out. Finally, he got his chance. ("Beluga whale" was Frederick's 'battle cry' term of choice for that day.)

Here Simon is going down with Frederick. Despite all appearances, no one was seriously injured.

After about half an hour Thomas realized that sledding is cold, hard work and decided that perhaps he hadn't been missing out on all that much. He's since gone back to spending his mornings asleep and his afternoons and evenings with his electronics.

Christmas...No Longer Morning

Simon and I readied ourselves for being awoken at 5 am to a present opening frenzy but...nothing. Frederick woke up around 7:30 and was quite content to play in his room and listen to Kermit T. Frog songs on his cd player for a while while looking at books and, later, putter around downstairs while we ate breakfast and waited for Thomas to emerge from his lair--which his did, bleary-eyed and confused around 11:30. So present opening didn't begin until almost noon. And, since Frederick carefully examined each toy and book after opening it, it stretched on until about 5 pm. Here is Frederick reading one of his MANY Maisy books.
Thomas opens a TINY box of Legos, the only Lego present of the year, a tiny reminder of his former Lego maniaical self...(That's Martha asleep just near his shoulder, clearly bored with the whole day.)
Thomas gleefully displays some of his Beatles albums. But more were to come..
Here Frederick gets serious about opening up a really big box (which turned out to be a really big stash of fake food which has since been fed to just about every stuffed animal in the house--who knew that frogs would love french fries and strawberry ice cream that much?) If you look closely, you can see that Martha has woken up and is on her way to teach Eunice, who was trying to mind her own business on the table under the fish painting, a lesson. (Martha is just a little bit jealous of the attention that Thomas gives to Eunice.)
And so we survived another Christmas Day.

Boring Sunday

It's one of those boring, cold Sunday days. The sky is gray and there isn't much to do--except mountains of grading (and job applications to read, but those have to wait until at least one kid goes to bed). Here he is, whiling away the day, drawing pictures of toys and stores. I wonder what he and Emily have been up to lately?
Here is Thomas playing Mega Man Roman Numeral-whatever (we own a billion versions and they all look the same to me).

First Sledding of the Year!

Last week Emily reported that Frederick informed her that he wanted an inflatable ring to sled, not one of those crappy flat sleds that he has been made to suffer in past years. So, dutiful parents that we are, we vowed to get him one first chance. And today we were blessed, if that is the right word, with a real cracker of a snow storm. Here Frederick shows that it's no big deal to go down the big hill (or, "Killer Hill" as some kids call it) all by oneself.

Nasty weather, but Frederick is loving it. He would have stayed out all day but Simon feared his hands would have frozen solid and snapped clean off.

I'd say chances of there being school tomorrow are slim to none.

Thomas Helps Out

Thomas desperately wanted to have a new DSi game and, apparently, would die a sure death if he waited until Christmas to get it. I told him that if he worked like a dog on Friday after school and all day Saturday, I would take him to Target Saturday night, a few seconds before it closed, to get the game. I think he thought I would tell him to put his laundry away, and a few other "light weight" instructions like that and so readily agreed. But I had a very long list of horrors, including "organize the furnace room," "organize and clean out both bathroom cabinets" (we had an AMAZING assortment of expired medications--alarming, actually) "scrape up all crusty cat puke stains," "take down and wash all ceiling light fixtures" (at this, Thomas was incredulous--why would one clean the inside of a light fixture?) and, my most dreaded chore, clear out and organize The Linen Closet. By the time we got through most of my Friday list it was almost 10 pm and I was absolutely dead tired though Thomas was just waking up. I suggested that we put off the linen closet until the next day, but Thomas would have none of it. I told him that he had no idea what he was getting into, as one had to first empty it (I tried to make even that task seem awesomely mighty and fearsome but of course that only made him want to do it more) and then explained that sheets had to be checked, old stuff tossed, moldy stuffed washed or tossed, and so on...Finally, as it always seems to go, Thomas wore me down. (Being with Thomas often causes me to think of Marcus Aurelius' advice, that we should think of ourselves as like a cliff edge, being pummeled by the sea and, though ultimately we will be worn down in the meanwhile we should be calm and stoical, a rock of strength. Yet, as Thomas crashes, pounds, and wears me down, I am not stoical or strong, but a battered, clump of rubble. around which Thomas gleefully does his victory dance.) And so we set to work pulling out sheets, blankets and pillows.

I found the work tiring and dull but for Thomas it was total joy. First of all, he didn't even know we had a "linen closet". ("I thought those were just some doors.") Second, he had no idea all that stuff was in there. Third, he had no idea the closet was SO BIG. ("You could have a secret hide-away in there. Or hide from robbers." [A common theme in Thomas' hind-brain.]

Here Thomas enjoys "sorting" our sheets and blankets:
What mad pleasures will Thomas create when I ask him to help me organize the spice cabinets? The mind boggles...
Amazingly, we did get the linen closet sorted, and Saturday Thomas worked as hard as he did on Friday, scraping, shifting, tossing, moving, and bagging--all the while wittering endlessly and happily about whatever happy thoughts were flitting through his brain at the time.

And, finally, after Frederick went to bed last night we headed out after dark to Target to get the game. (About 5 o'clock I caught Thomas whispering into Frederick's ear, "Frederick, you are very sleepy. You should go to sleep now." Not too surprisingly, he didn't and Thomas had to wait another 3 hours for the game.) Since we had to pay for the game in the electronics department, Thomas had to hold onto the game and receipt while I paid for the other usual crap we need from Target every week (tp, paper towels, socks, cereal, lotion, kleenex, saline solution and I don't know what else but it always seems to add up to about $100). I asked Thomas if he could "manage" the receipt and game or if I should be in charge. He was offended. Then, a few minutes later, I saw him larking about, winging the bag around and around in a tight spin. And, rather like out of a Roald Dahl book, the game went flying out of a small hole in the bag, slowly sailed high up through the air and then fell down onto the floor with a nice "crack." Thomas's face went a bright shade of pink and tears filled his eyes. (And I am sure both of us at that instant recalled a mere 5 minutes earlier as we stood in the game aisle, that Thomas remarked, "It's the LAST GAME ON THE SHELF!!!") He ran over to it BUT, miraculously, the game case was unharmed and, therefore, the game inside was certainly fine. I asked if he had the receipt still. He looked into the bag and froze, and his pink face turned white. I sighed. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. His eyes darted about wildly, like a man being hunted down by a pack of starving wolves. He dashed off and then, a few minutes later, I saw him sitting on a bench just inside the door, rigidly holding the game in one hand, the receipt in the other, while unblinkingly staring at both.

Amazingly, we made it home without further incident. More amazing, Thomas loaded up the game with no difficulties and has been playing it gleefully ever since. At one point I thought I heard him crying late at night but it turns out that those were explosions of happiness. (Indeed, he is playing it as I type this. Simon asked him to write this blog instead of me but, Thomas insisted that he couldn't possibly, as he has an "especially big boss to battle" or some such thing, I don't know.) And Frederick is up in his room, puttering about, reading books.

And so another weekend slowly draws to a close. The sun is almost ready to set; it is certainly bitterly cold outside. The pond is almost frozen over. [We have so far saved 6 fish from the pond but have at least 7 to go. We had amazing success using a garden rake (!!!) to catch the fish (I KID NOT!) and I will try again in a few days when I get through a particularly awful batch of grading. We have Goldeen, the goldfish we have had at least 5 years and the koi but we do not have the rather badly named "yellowy," the odd, loner fish that refuses to play with the others and has been my favorite for many years.] There is snow flitting about and the ground is starting to freeze solid. The house has cold pockets in it and there are spaces in rooms that are too cold to sit in (and the downstairs bathroom is simply punitive). I think we can officially say 'hello' to winter...

For those who wish to buy us presents...

We have Amazon wish lists:

Thomas: http://amzn.com/w/OB2CJNFFLKXN

Frederick: http://amzn.com/w/2IFOPR206TQ9R

Jami: http://amzn.com/w/56JCYLRL52NI

Simon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/wishlist/1QAT6X9VEFP1W (UK - preferred) and

http://amzn.com/w/2GQCEEPSD8PAI (US - for those who left it a bit late)

Frederick and the snake

Yesterday (Thanksgiving) Frederick and I went for a post-meal stroll at, yes, For-Mar. We saw deer, and this fellow. (It was very mild. Today, on the other hand, it dropped to the twenties and snow was in the air.)

The Flint Institute of Music is Very Excited about Christmas

A Weekend in November

Simon and Frederick went for a long walk on Saturday. The day was gloomy and cool, but not terrible. Frederick poses along the way.
Frederick bored of posing along the way. Sunday was much worse--windy and cold. But again Simon and Frederick headed out, this time with Thomas tagging along. They made it to the office and Thomas decorated my message board outside my office door. [I think he thought I would be annoyed or shocked because of the effect this may have on my students, but I am going to leave it. Maybe it will keep annoying students away.]

Thomas caught in the act of messing up my office. He'll deny it, but I know he changes things around, takes things and loses things. He can't help it; he's always been that way.
Frederick enjoys watching bits of Sesame Street on YouTube.
And thus we survived another boring weekend. In retrospect, the walk may have been a bad idea, though, as Frederick woke up with a splitting headache (he claimed his eyebrow hurt--I take that to mean he had sinus pressure), promptly threw up and then passed out on the couch. And so another winter season begins...

Post-bath fun

I heard sounds from the bathroom after Frederick's bath that indicated he was having fun. "Good for him", I thought, as I worked on the computer (preparing an online Logic test, as it happens, not reading The Onion or something). "At least I know he's not making a mess, because I put away all the shampoos that he sometimes likes to make messes with." Never underestimate the mess-making ability of a Frederick:

Halloween Costumes--Another Ordeal Survived

Some weeks ago Frederick declared that he wanted to be Kermit T. Frog for Halloween. I started planning out the costume 5 or 6 weeks ago, got all the necessary fabric about a month ago, but did not have time to actually start sewing it until last week Sunday. The trick to a good costume is that the feet have to be removable if walking in them is dangerous, the hands have to be removable so that the candy container doesn't get dropped and the mask has to allow the wearer to see, breathe and talk comfortably. The night before the school Halloween dress up party, Frederick suddenly had a crisis of confidence and said he wouldn't wear the costume at school. I packed it all up in a sack for him to take anyway, but I was fairly confident he wouldn't have anything to do with it. To my surprise, Emily reported that, once he realized that ALL the kids would have costumes on, he wanted to wear his, too. Here he is in the classroom, relaxing in a rocking chair and putting on the hands.
He's all done and now just has to wait for all his classmates to get finished changing in the bathrooms. (The costume is 100% polyester fleece and is, I imagine, HOT! He looks like he is being cooked alive.)
Some of his classmates are back quickly. Emily dressed up as a cat.
Here are the rest. (Frederick can't stop staring at Clare's wig with the giant Repunzal braid.)
Here he is at Emily's, chilling in his Kermit pants and playing with Play Doh.
Thomas insisted that he was too old to dress up for Halloween but Thursday morning fell apart and begged for a costume. I told him that I would make something SIMPLE. So while he was at Philharmonia rehearsal Thursday evening I sewed question marks onto a black sweatshirt top. I'm not sure what he was, but he said that that (not knowing what he was) WAS what he was.

Halloween Excitement

Every year Emily takes Frederick to a nearby pumpkin farm to pick out pumpkins to carve for Halloween. This year they have been singing a version of Five Little Monkeys, called Five Little Pumpkins. This meant that five trips to the pumpkin farm were necessary. This day it was rather nippy out and Frederick is wearing his new winter coat.
Frederick double checks the pumpkin--it seems good.
Yes, it's a beaut. But how to design the face--happy? sad? scary?
This pumpkin gets carved on Emily's front porch during a rain storm.
This one is getting carved inside--it must have been cold outside that day.
Scary face is finished!

Trick or Treating

[Simon and I were blogging at the same time so this is out of order--these pictures should be after the Kermit pictures above.]
Halloween Trick or Treating was moved a day early in the hope that this would minimize the damage done on what is known here in Flint as "Devil's Night," the one evening a year when everyone feels free to roam through Flint and set houses on fire. It's almost 9 pm and so far no one has set this house on fire but the night is young, I suppose. Here come the mobs...
It gets pretty ridiculous. People pack up in minivans and trucks, driving in from all parts of town to raid our neighborhood of candy. (Admittedly I would, too, if I lived in any other part of this town.)
Here is a film of Thomas being overwhelmed by another mob. (It got worse after this and we were cleaned out after just about an hour.)

Frederick the Polar Bear II

Last week we went to Seven Lakes park near Fenton, and the weather was glorious:



In this last photo, Frederick is wearing no underpants (under his jeans - this IS America) and my T-shirt because he refused to settle for just paddling...


...so when we went back to Seven Lakes today, and the weather was even warmer, I stripped him down to his skivvies so he could get serious:

Heading Home...

Since all things, good and bad, come to an end, the conference in Milwaukee ended and our excuse to escape Flint ended. So, while Thomas dozed Sunday morning, I packed up our things and got ready to go. Thomas had mentioned on Saturday that he felt a bit cheated as we "didn't do much." I pointed out that attending the conference, though that mostly involved sitting, listening, and eating fruit salad and buns, was, strictly speaking, "doing something." He admitted that he loved seeing the Taggart family Friday night--especially, for some reason, the "lounge areas" scattered around Sturge and Barb's house. And seeing Steve's salt tank/business was an experience not to be matched anytime soon but, over all, he was disappointed. Apparently every day should be a thrill, not just Friday. So, not hopeful, I promised to check the map for something interesting to visit on the way home.
To my amazement there is a national park (Dunes Coast National Park, or something like that) just outside of Gary, Indiana which is, in my opinion, easily one of the top five ugliest cities in the world. But, about 20 minutes outside the city limits, all we had to do was cut off the interstate and head straight north for about 8 miles and lo and behold, here we were:
Apparently (if the park literature is to be believed) it has one of the world's largest "moving dunes." (Aren't all dunes, strictly speaking, moving?) At the left (just above the fences) you can see a bit of industrial wasteland but that isn't Gary. Gary is over to the right of that and Chicago is farther to the right, almost at the edge of the picture. (Click on the picture to enlarge it and you should be able to see the city skylines.) They look pretty here but they aren't.
This is an old Pavillion that is falling to bits. The faded signs claim that there are "treats" and "gifts" for sale, but the peeling paint implied otherwise. There were bathrooms open (scary bathrooms) but all other rooms were boarded up.
I think this is Mountain Tom. [I say "I think" because the map of the park was very hard to interpret--perhaps because these dunes are always moving around?] It doesn't look so impressive in the picture but just try and climb up it. Every 3 feet you move forward, you slide 2 1/2 feet back. It is exhausting.
Climbing down is a lot more fun--sort of like skiing on sand in tennis shoes. Except that your shoes get filled with sand and cause serious pain. As always with beaches, the sand in the sun was baking hot and the sand in the shade was painfully cold.
Thomas learns how to "break the grip of the rip." I think the better lesson to learn is simply to not swim at all--it's just too dangerous.
I suppose I am glad I went to the conference. It was organized by AutCom (the largest Activist Organization for Autistics) and a lot of people from various walks of life were there. I got a much clearer sense of what music therapy is and isn't doing, for example. I also learned that the theory of "stunty dendrites" is old news (a research study that make big headlines because it alleged that there is an Austistic Brain) because the research has not been replicable and, it seems, the study itself is looking increasingly suspect. The best (verifiable) explanation now is that autistics "wire up" their neural pathways in patterns that are utterly unlike an NT's (neural typicals), even unlike other autists pathways. The effect is both delays (as the brain has to seemingly endlessly process information when retrieving something as simple as the answer to "Are you hungry?" but also opens possibilities for amazingly interesting and creative thinking. [One source of violent debate is in reaction to the Old School claim that autists cannot understand metaphor. The New School claim is that autists invented metaphor. After all, if your brain didn't take a pit stop to colors while on its way to retrieve the name of a day of the week, how could you ever come up with "a blue Monday"? You can see how the issues become exhausting. If it didn't matter so much, I would stop trying to figure it all out.]

On The Road Again...

Bored with Flint, Thomas and I set out for Milwaukee this morning. I registered to attend an AutCom conference in Milwaukee and, when I told Thomas about it a few months ago, he said he desperately wanted to attend. (WHY he wanted to attend, other than to miss a few days of school, is beyond me.) It's 369.9 miles from the end of our driveway to the hotel parking lot and we made it in about 6 hours, and that was with some white knuckle driving through the outskirts of Milwaukee. (Signs everywhere promised that the face lift the 50 year old freeway was getting would be complete by the end of 2010 but, given the work that seems to need to be done and that snow will be flying in a few weeks, I am skeptical.) But we made it. And here Thomas enjoys checking out the latest additions on YouTube. (Note Yoshi on corner of desk.)
Here is our room--a space so FANTASTIC that Thomas is uneasy about walking around without shoes on. (I think the logic is that shoe wearing is more formal than simply sock wearing and formal digs require formal attire.) I don't see the AMAZINGNESS myself, but I am glad he is excited.
Thomas whooped and hollered with joy when he saw the pink toilet...
...and the not quite matching tub. The tile is...odd.
Free stuff!
Here is the view from the hotel room. We are right across from the airport and the local sights are pretty hideous. If you click on the photo it will enlarge and you will be able to see the Denny's where we went for a snack. I had a yogurt and tea and Thomas has a giant slab of Belgium waffle with two side dishes of fruit. He had the right to eggs but, rather mysteriously said to the waitress that he "didn't care" if he got them, so he didn't. And, true to his word, he didn't seem to care in the least.
Here is looking the other way, and you can just see the single golden arch of the nearby McDonald's which must date back several decades since the single Golden Arch is long passe.
The conference doesn't start until tomorrow morning at 8:30, when we register and eat a "continental breakfast." I told Thomas that someone would probably be talking while we ate, as "Introductions" is listed on the program to take place at the same time. He thought I was pulling his leg. I also told him that he could do his homework while we sat together in the talks but he didn't believe that, either. I'm not sure what he thinks is going to happen. He did attend a conference with Simon in Alaska and only has a vague idea of what that was about--he asked me during the drive if people would be talking about vampires or werewolves "like that did at that conference daddy took me to." I said it was unlikely, unless they were autistic vampires. That seemed to make him feel slightly more at ease. (What WERE they doing up there in Alaska?) And now, as the sun sets, we are going to tuck into a mean session of Minecraft and there isn't anything anyone can do about it. (Did you know you can gather clay and fire pottery and get sheep to collect wool in Minecraft? IMAGINE the possibilities!!!)