Bear has been on summer break for 4 weeks, and he is bored. My plans to enroll him in Swim 'n Gym and toddler soccer classes never panned out. The handful of playdates and outings that I have managed to squeeze in between Thumper's nap times have provided nowhere near the 25 hours a week of structure and stimulation that Bear gets when he is in school. He spends all day following me from room to room, alternately whining, teasing me, and misbehaving. He swings on doors and climbs the furniture. Lately I have seen him eyeing the ceiling fan with a glint in his eye. He doesn't so much play with his toys as spread them out across the house in a manner reminiscent of Hurricane Katrina. He is driving me crazy. So I am ashamed to admit that when we received an invitation for the birthday party of a young school mate of his, I hesitated.
Young friend's parents are kosher vegetarian environmentalists. They keep an astoundingly tidy house despite having a preschooler, where shoes are not allowed. There is nothing wrong with any of this. In fact, all of these traits are noble and admirable. And they are not obnoxious, pretentious, or self-righteous. They are just nice people who offered support and advice to me, a complete stranger, when Bear was first diagnosed. (They even asked that in lieu of gifts, we donate a toy to a child in need. See what I mean?) I just happen to be an undermotivated, unorganized and curmudgeonly slob with a natural aversion to rules and constraints of any kind. I find all of this discipline to be a little, well, daunting. (Which begs the question "how did I wind up married to a health-conscious neat freak?", but I digress...)
After a few days of vacillating, I finally put Bear's needs ahead of my own and rsvp'd to the party. Yesterday, when I told him about it, his whole face lit up as he began to chatter about all of the school friends that he has been missing. We are going to the party. And we are going to have fun, dammit.
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