Today, we had a milk emergency, so we stopped by Jenn's office to makeweight.

And we had a nice time of it - Jenn took her lunch break with us, we had hot dogs and a little ice cream and some juice (Ana's been constipated, so we're hoping that these treats will help loosen her up) in the playground, and we fed the squirrels (right from our hands! The first one started sniffing at Ana even before we had food, because those squirrels are tame, and Ana was thrilled, and Jenn was freaking out, and I just laughed) and the birds and watched a fledgling sparrow get fed.... it was good.

Now, just about every other building in the city has scaffolding around it, and Jenn's office is no exception. As we walked back to Jenn's office for Ana's second toilet break (she didn't take it, but she managed to go the whole trip home, even counting her nap, without wetting her pants. Which is good, as she was undiapered, and I *really* didn't want a sopping lap!), one of the construction workers climbed from the top of the scaffold down to the ground.

Ana was enthralled. This was, to her, just the coolest thing ever. I thought it was pretty nifty myself.

Of course, the moment had to be ruined by some snotty office worker telling Ana "Stay in school or that's what you'll be doing"

Okay, let's take this point by point:

1. Ana's three. She's not in school yet. And when she is in school, I would hope we're not threatening her in order to maintain her interest! If that's what we all have to do, there is something seriously wrong.

2. As threats go, it was supremely ineffective. Even the least observant should've noticed her grin and "YOOK! SEE THAT!" Great argument - stay in school and you won't get to have this really cool job where you climb on the scaffolds. Uh-huh. I can see that argument affecting her.

3. Finally (and arguably most importantly), that statement is damn insulting. Construction work, building repair, whatever - that's good, honest work. Good, honest, well-paid work. And it's useful to boot, which is more than Mr. Snotty White Collar can say for his job.

Without this construction worker, sir, you wouldn't have a roof over your nice little cubicle. And you wouldn't have your house if somebody hadn't built it, and you wouldn't have the trains that brought you to work, and you wouldn't have a whole host of other things you take for granted, sir.

But if you and your job suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth, would the world even notice?

Sir, I honestly doubt that. So stop trying to indoctrinate my niece with your little theories of how the world works.

Thanks.

Two posts about Katie...

One
Two
And an archived article

Apparently, my little post on That Video has been making the rounds of autismhub. I'm all blushing. Really.

Now, when I posted that, one of my friends commented that parts of the video really hit home - the bits about running into traffic, especially - and that it was, for her, a moving video.

And after thinking about it a while, I think I have an answer to that.

It is a moving video. It was clearly designed to be. The question is - is it moving us anywhere helpful?

Because I watched it, and I got the idea that I was supposed to be drifted along to the idea that autistic kids need help, and the help they need is to be cured. That autistic kids are, untreated, a terrible burden on their loving families. That autism is bad in and of itself.

I don't believe any of that.

I understand that presumably-NT parents, confronted with autism for the first time, are going to go through a period of trouble. They're going to want their dream-child back instead of the real child they have. They're going to feel lost, and helpless, and they'll believe that the problem is as easy as a cure.

But how long can they keep feeling like this? Is it healthy to keep feeling like this? Is it healthy for the parents? I know it's not healthy for the kids, even the ones whose parents don't admit to their thoughts of murder/suicide in front of them.

Indeed, those thoughts of murder/suicide - and the fact that the woman felt no compunction or regret over the thoughts, nor any apprehension about admitting them to the world (and her daughter) - seem to indicate that these feelings are very unhealthy.

It's not the autism making you want to kill yourself, lady, nor is it autism which makes anybody want to kill their kids, despite the rationalizations they use.

As near as I can see, it's fine to have these feelings - for a time. To act on them? Well... certainly not to kill your kids, but even to make it clear that they're not acceptable the way they are - that's not healthy. It's not healthy for NTs, how can it be healthy for autistics?

And to go and promote the idea that wallowing in your feelings of loss, and hopelessness, and normal = good - that's beyond unhealthy. That's flat-out unconscionable. People ought to be trying to work into accepting their children, not encouraging others to think that autisic kids deserve to be treated as burdens, trials, trouble.

I can't say this right. I hope that my effort comes through clearly, instead, because if I knew how to say it right, it'd be a lot more persuasive.

Mulberries are ripe!

They are, they are, they are!

Jenn's yard is full of them, and since nobody ever goes there or next door, the tree's gone wild. It's great.

Of course, none of the branches are quite low enough to the ground, and I'm not so ecstatic about mulberries that I'll eat those that've dropped, but I could just reach enough berries to sate myself.

Question: I've never seen mulberries sprouting from seeds. Regardless, could I plant a tree or so from one of these berries? Hm...

This week, I want to collect a lot of the berries, make a small batch of jam. To eat, not to keep. Should find a recipe.