Category Archives: sensory

I don’t know if I’m ready….

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I don’t know if I am ready for this post. To write it. To understand it. To mean it. To be comfortable with myself to say here I am folks and it may not be pretty. You have been warned. This post is long and rambling but while writing it I had an epiphany.

Regular readers know that Boo has an undiagnosed genetic disorder, probably neurological in nature. A month ago she had to undergo neurological-psychological testing to have a better excuse than we don’t know what the freak is wrong with your daughter to satisfy the State and Insurance Gods.

Last week we received the results of the neuro-psych testing. Most of it was unsurprising. Boo has an intellectual disability (no kidding), she has a sensory processing disorder (um, yes but did you see her video at the beach?), delayed language and….autism.

I’ll get back to that last one in a moment. For the Intellectual Disability we were thankful that her skills are scattered, so she shows not only growth but potential. The majority of her skills is in the “very low” (disabled) IQ but she did have a smattering of “low” IQ in some areas. 

They asked me if I believed the testing and I said I did with the caveat that had Boo’s known therapists had performed the tests she would have had stronger results. I do not believe the Psychologist put the tests in a context where Boo understood what was being asked of her. But they are standardized tests and the tests have to be done the same way. Let’s just agree to disagree on that one. Right, Boo’s therapists who are reading this rant?

I asked why, when for all this time we were repeatedly told our daughter did not have autism this decision was made. I am not adverse to the label, but I want the reasoning. According to the “standardized” testing Boo qualifies as Autistic due to her hand flapping (although this is only with excitement and not a stim), her sensory issues, her toe-walking and her social skills. Plus some other fancy words but I had kind of stopped listening.

Um, what? You had me until social skills. I agree with everything above when except social. I did not think I could have a child more social than Abby. Boo loves people. She loves to please, she loves to be around her friends. 

What I learned is that social interest/motivation is different from social ability. The Psychologist also expressed worry that Boo will interact only on her own agenda. But when prompted to look at the Psychologist she wouldn’t. Again I said, had her therapists she sees everyday had conducted the testing I believe the results would have been different.

But they are standardized tests and the tests have to be done the same way. Yeah, I heard you the first time.

I asked if where Boo is developmentally may have some impact on her social “ability”. Unfortunately as delayed as Boo is, developmentally her social development is even more hindered. Had the delays been closer together they would not have been so concerned.

But here is the kicker…when asked how this changes what we do for Boo. Now that she is autistic what therapies do we add, what do we take away, do we try play therapy, try yoga again, anything that I haven’t thought of….I was told:

“Keep doing whatever you are doing”.


Yeah, thanks for that.

I’m not upset by the autism label. Okay I was at first. I was worried that I am in denial. However in truth, my fear of the label is that doctors, teachers and therapists will stop looking to see what is at the root of Boo’s issues. I called her neurologist, whom I not only adore but respect and trust. 

Am I in denial?, I asked. Has Boo had autism all along and I just didn’t want to know?

No, she replied. With the standardized testing Boo qualifies for the autism diagnosis. We have never tested her before with ADOS due to her intellectual disability. Once you get down to the testing, where her strengths and weakness are clearly shown you get a better picture.  But (and this is an important but she stressed) autism is not only what is wrong with Boo. What is wrong with Boo is she has an unknown genetic disorder, an intellectual disability and other medical concerns that now include autism. 

Our Boo, she said, is something unknown and also all these things we can name. Our goal now is to make sure no one ever stops looking at the whole child.  

I struggled with this post, for some time. I struggled with understanding what autism means to me. I have plenty of friends whose children have autism. I know it doesn’t make them less. I know that they are just like Boo, unique and lovely and precious. But after all this time this was one diagnosis I never considered. Or been told to consider by her team.

I just thought Boo had an intellectual delay. I think, honestly that was easier to deal with because delay just meant she hadn’t caught up yet. Flights are delayed all the time but eventually you get to your destination. 

Epiphany time! There was a hope that was buried deep in my heart that I never knew was lingering: that she would, someday, catch up and plateau. Did I think she would be a Harvard grad? Not so much. But then I am not too impressed with Harvard grads lately. 

You don’t recover from autism. Boo will always be intellectually disabled. The hope I didn’t know existed kind of broke my heart for a day or two. I struggled with this added diagnosis and the realization Boo may never catch up. My love never wavered that she will always be my Boo. That we will always do what we have been doing and continue to defy those who say she will not do….

It wasn’t until someone asked me if Boo was “a little autistic” and I could realize with a smile, that being a little autistic was like being a little pregnant.

“Yes, Boo is autistic but she is also something so much more”, I replied.



Different choices

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When Abby was young we research schools, private and public. We started in Montessori and would have kept her there if there was an option of a larger school. When we had Boo that changed.




We could no longer afford private school. Thankfully that is the only thing we had to compromise with having Boo. But still, the choice to move to public school for both girls was one we thought long and hard about.

Long enough to contemplate giving up wine, vacations and chocolate.

Thankfully we live in an awesome town. One that has a great educational program, both for the typical and the special. Abby had a hard transition to the formal education program, rather than the more nurturing Montessori. It took time for her to find her groove, but she did. 

I haven’t really thought of our choice for public school. Boo has thrived, simply thrived in her program. Unlike other families we have fallen into a simply awesome program. And then it happened.

I was at the grocery store and ran into a mother of a child who was a classmate of Boo’s last year. Her child had moved on to kindergarten. I asked, innocently enough, how E was enjoying kindergarten. For some reason I assumed that she was in the same public school system. Until the mom informed me they had gone the private school route. 

“You have to have Boo go there for kindergarten”, she innocently said.

In my head I am thinking do you remember Boo? She is right here sitting in the shopping cart. Unlike other 5 year-olds who no longer fit in the cart. Boo is being Boo. Cute, adorable Boo. But not anywhere on par with her own child.

I simply reply that we love the program she is currently enrolled. In my mind I am thinking that we won’t know until late Spring if Boo will be ready for kindergarten or if she will spend a 4th year in pre-K. Which, if needed, I am generally fine with. Until a mother innocently assumes that Boo is “normal” and will be following the normal trajectory of education.

This mother didn’t mean to make me catch my breath. It is just one of those moments when I hit the wall. The wall of knowing that with Boo I have different decisions to make. Ones that will impact Abby more than Boo. Ones where Boo takes precedent of Abby. Our family. Knowing that where we live matters. That we cannot move or change careers or schools at a whim. Knowing that to give Boo the best life possible we all make sacrifices.

Even Abby. Although she doesn’t know it. Abby is in public school because the cost of a special needs child is quadruple (made up figure) what a typical child costs. That we need a larger car to fit Boo’s chair. That we have to pay for extra health insurance . That I have to limit my hours at a well-paying job to be there for Boo’s appointments. Limiting my paycheck and David’s as well. We haven’t saved as we had before Boo. Our savings account has not grown as we expected. This Christmas was a perfect illustration of our new situation. That we didn’t spoil our loved ones as in years past.

We are so, so, so, very lucky to live in a town with a great public school system. One that nurtures both girls. That allows both girls to not only achieve their potential but surpass it. I don’t begrudge Boo. David doesn’t even consider it. Abby, if she knew, would be okay with it.

And I am too. 

Until an innocent bystander assumes that Boo could just transition to a typical classroom.

We are still okay…

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Boo has had to undergo neurological/psychiatric testing over the past two weeks. There hasn’t been any issues, other than her turning five. In our state (for insurance purposes, I believe) once you turn the ripe old age of five you are no longer allowed to be undiagnosed and/or globally delayed.

Boo had to go twice, for two hours each day, to meet with a psychologist for a battery of tests. (I think battery is a strong word, she didn’t hurt Boo). The tests varied from intelligence/cognitive testing to behavioral/autism to play skills. Part of me wanted Boo to bomb the testing, securing her services. The good mom in me wanted her to excel.

Typical Boo she did a little of both and managed to frustrate the doctor. I wish I could have Kristi’s artistic talent to demonstrate the following (I tried, I failed, I didn’t want to hurt your eyes):

Doctor: Boo stack the blocks like this (imagine, two next to each other and one on top)
Boo: (hands the doctor the blocks after banging them for a minute)

Doctor: Can Boo climb onto and out of an adult chair?
Boo: Moves said chair next to exam table, proceeds to climb on top of chair, to table, to window sill in an attempt to get out of the room. We happen to be on the 10th floor and very thankful the windows don’t open.

I’m impressed that Boo realized she had to do something with both the blocks and the chair. The doctor is distressed that she cannot follow direction.

At the end of the two days the doctor asked us if we had any questions. I ask her how she feels Boo did. She had previously thrown out words: autism, PPD-NOS, mentally disabled, intellectually disabled, ADHD and a bunch of other terms. Her response:

I have to score the tests.

Hm…now those that know me know that I tend not to be brushed off. I (politely, I swear) reminded the woman that she was an experienced professional who must have some instinct to how Boo had tested.

After a moment or two she told us that she honestly didn’t know. That she wanted to show the test results and video to not only Boo’s neurologist (whom I adore and trust) along with other colleagues. How Boo performed was baffling:

She shows signs of Autism: Will not look the doctor in the eye.

She shows signs that a child with Autism wont: She told the doctor to “look” and sought her attention.

Autism: Hand flapping, quickly distracted, would not follow directions, toe walking
Not: Social, engaging with materials, attempts to please, would put heals down when prompted by cue

Autism: lack of safety awareness
Not: asked for help when trying to get down off the exam table

Intellectually disabled: Cannot copy a “t” on the paper
Not intellectually disabled: can hold a pencil in the correct grasp

ID: Cannot follow a two-step direction
Not: Knew she needed a pencil to draw on paper

ID: Poor motor planning
Not: Pushed chair to get to top of exam table

The examples go on and on. In the end the doctor said at this point Boo is a Medical Enigma.

Where have I heard that before?

She will convene a team (about damn time) to look over everything. She agrees (as do neurology and genetics) that whatever is going on is neurological in origin. In the end it doesn’t really matter what “term” they give Boo. I think Bridgetitis is a lovely term. We will continue to advocate, get therapies that work and love her the same with or without a medical diagnosis.

At five years old, she remains undiagnosed and we are still okay with that.


I stalk Stephanie Sprenger

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Last New Year’s Eve my friend Jenn and I were sitting in front of her fireplace trying to warm freezing our butts. She had an epiphany: Let’s go someplace warm next Thanksgiving.

I learned long ago to listen when Jenn says…to do anything she tells you. Last week we drove from New England to Cape Coral, Florida for Thanksgiving.  Other than Abby puking in Jersey the drive was really uneventful. Easy even.

We drove through the night, stopping in Jacksonville FLA the next evening. We stayed at the Hyatt along the river front. It was quite beautiful but packed due to a conference. In the elevator (because we are rude and nosy) we listened to as the 20 odd people crammed in with us talked about music therapy.

Turns out we dropped right into a conference for Music Therapist. There were thousands of them. Stephanie at Mommy for Real happens to be a music therapist. I missed Blog-Her but she must be here, right? Right? I began stalking the hallways, the bar, the roof top pool. But no Stephanie.

Of course we found the one Irish bar within walking distance. She wasn’t there either. But I found wine so it was all good. I also met some great people (in my hunt for Stephanie) because after a glass of wine and 20-odd hours in the car I am no longer shy. As we were the only ones in the bar that were not part of the conference we kind of stood out.

David started asking questions and telling them about Boo. They were so helpful, giving us websites in our area to check out.

While I never did find Stephanie I may have found one other way for Boo to spend her afternoons!

Happy Day!

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Today Bridget turns five. FIVE. That is half a decade I didn’t think I would have with this beautiful child. I have a tradition. Every year I thank everyone who helps her be the best she can be.


Her school. Her teacher and assistants. Her classmates that include Bridget not due to inclusion but due to friendship. With their help she has found her voice. A year ago she was in class but quiet. Now she bosses her classmates at the top of her lungs. A child we were told would never speak shouts.

Her school therapists. They have the hardest job out there. They remain kind but strict, loving but firm. I honestly do not know how they care for the children in this program day in and day out. They are poorly paid, over qualified and have unending patience. We are so very lucky to live in a town where children with special needs are included and counted.  With the upmost care they have taught Bridget how to jump, how to draw a circle and how to be plugged into the world around her.

Her Spaulding team. She has the best bunch of therapists at Spaulding. They have become our support system, our friends and our race buddies. 


They care for more than just Bridget. Her SPT has helped Abby with her homework, or well tried to. Her OT has let Abby be involved with sensory play. Her PT has let Abby be a part of the obstacle course. It’s more than the therapists. The secretaries greet Bridget with a smile and a hug. The medical assistants whom we are not patients for pick Bridget up and listen to her babble. They meet David & I out for dinner. They see us as more than parents of their patient.

Her Children’s team. This year Bridget graduated out of three programs. Her MD list is down to eight. That’s right EIGHT. She still has her quirks but now only needs to see the other doctors in an emergency. She is STABLE people. As in stable does not need intense monitoring. As in has not been hospitalized in TWO years. As in only has to go to CHB twice a year.

Her friends. The little girl who invited Bridget to a birthday party. The friends that come over to our home because it is easier for her than going to theirs. The friends at our Irish pub who smile at her antics when we take her out for dinner. The friends that encouraged her all summer so we could have this moment. This beautiful moment:

Her family. The ones the read this blog and don’t get upset with me for my openess. The ones that know by reading this blog they are helping Bridget. The ones that don’t read this blog but show their love to Bridget by supporting her every moment.

Her sister.  Abby is aware that her sister is special. Each year the definition, in Abby’s mind, of special evolves. But what never wavers is her love and support. She is the reason Bridget went into the ball pit of terror in OT. Her name was Bridget’s first word and she is the first person Bridget runs to after school.

Today is Bridget’s Happy Day. And I thank each and everyone one of you for making it so.

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I’ve written before about Boo’s wandering. It started about as soon as she came off the walker. If she is outside you blink and she has eloped. It is beyond scary to know your child will wander off and not realize she is unsafe. I even had a bright idea and e-mailed NIKE about putting a chip in children’s shoes.

They refuse, on principal, to take unsolicited advice.

So I remained scared and worried. A lot of my fear is due to Boo’s lack of verbal skills. Then a police officer friend told us about Safety Net by LoJack.

Let me state right here, I am not being paid nor has LoJack asked me for any type of endorsement. They have no idea I am even writing this post.

Safety Net is a bracelet Boo wears. It has a rocking purple strap and about the size of a watch. Okay, it is a tad big on her….but she is a petite little thing! She wears the bracelet 24/7. If she wanders we alert 911 and provide her name. Our local department has her signal ID. If we travel we let LoJack know our destination and they will alert authorities that we will be in there area.

Unlike cell phone and GPS signals, LoJack uses a radio transmitter that can be used in any condition and locale. Since we like the mountains, we were relieved. Her bracelet is waterproof. She can use it in the bath, the pool and the ocean. And if we can convince her the sand.


It is expensive, $400 for the first year. We asked our families to contribute. We let them know what we were doing and asked that instead of getting her a birthday/Christmas present this year they take whatever money they normally would have spent and put it towards her safety.

All responded with generosity. They understand that Boo doesn’t “play” and doesn’t need material things…but she does need to remain safe. While her bracelet will not stop her from eloping, it will help us locate her with a great chance of finding her alive.

The system arrived within a day. We put it on Boo. She did NOT like us putting it on. But now that it is securely on, she has been showing off her “bracelet” to everyone she comes into contact with. She has slept, bathed, done crafts (with grandma I was banned by Abby) and gone to school with it.



She has been wearing the “bracelet” about a week. She has asked for it to be “off” once and a while but for the most part has realized it is staying put! 

If you see Boo around town make sure you ask her to show her new rocking accessory.
 
 

Being included

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Last year I was humbled and so surprised when Boo was invited to another child’s birthday party. I remember writing that she was included, that the children in her classroom see Boo and not a child with a  disability. But I worried that she wasn’t really a peer. It ended up being a moot point, as we were unable to attend the party due to a family commitment.

At that time a friend wrote to me and said it so wonderfully that just that day her children, both of them, proclaimed Boo to be their friend. That in children’s minds they are all peers. It really is just us adults that make the mistake of thinking otherwise.

I have remembered those kind words. You see, Boo was invited to another birthday party. Yes, I was kind of worried and spoke to the mom (who is also Boo’s therapist at school) but those words kept coming back to me. I decided to be honest and let her know my fear. That we wanted to attend, but I didn’t want her daughter to be disappointed when Boo, well is Boo. The party was being held at a gymnastics center, there would be obstacles and activities that she just wouldn’t understand. She might become overwhelmed or disruptive. I honestly didn’t want Boo to detract from another little girl’s first ‘for real’ birthday party.

Thankfully, the mom completely understood and reassured me that all would be fine. I’m sure it helped that she works with Boo a couple times a week! We went and Boo had a great time. Sure, she didn’t participate like the other children. The teenagers running the party had to pay her more attention. They were accepting and kind. I only had to rescue her twice when she got overwhelmed. The older children attending the party made sure she was safe and the youngers ones just ran around her.

But she had fun! She ran around the obstacle course in her own manner. She ate her cupcake (and tried to eat the child’s next to hers). She watched her friend open presents (and tried to steal them). She squealed at the Princess goody cup and stickers. She proclaimed HAPPY DAY and HAPPY CAKE to her friend.


She was a typical kid having fun at a birthday party.  And just like that typical kid, she barely stayed awake for the ride home!

I am so thankful that last year a kind friend planted the seed: that adults see the disability not the children. I realized as I was writing this post that four years ago I never imagined this day. THIS day that Boo would be invited to a party not because of inclusion but because of friendship.

A happy day indeed.


Picture this…

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It’s that time of year when our e-mail inboxes get slammed with spam from Shutterfly and Snapfish advertising discounts on holiday card orders.  All the cards they have in their ad displays a beautiful portrait of a family interacting so naturally hanging out in a field or by the beach.  Everyone is smiling and laughing.  You can almost feel their happiness.  I always think, “I could NEVER get a picture of my kids doing that”..  Worse, I avoid that formal picture because I know that Boo will have such trouble focusing on the photographer. She might look vacant or checked-out. 

But then I met Zach’s mom, Laura. Her reply? Well, of course you can!  I’d like to introduce you to Laura, an awesome mom and someone who taught me to relax in the moment of trying to get that ‘typical’ family portrait. 

 
And hey, my first ever guest posting on my blog!

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Photo Credit – Trace Melody

I’m a mom-tographer based on the Cape.  Every year around the holidays my schedule packs up.  Parents contact me sounding anxious to schedule a holiday session with their kids but apprehensive.  The conversation always starts out with the same phrase “I just want a few good pics of my kids.” And they hope to, “Maybe get a nice one of all of us”.  Then, their session rolls around and we rock it out.  I may show the parents one or two little quick glimpses on the back of my camera but I like to save the best for when they see their gallery. 

The gratitude for not only beautiful portraits, but also for a fun experience is what pours out of these families.  I love giving that experience to people.  Giving them a visual representation of not just what their family looks like, but WHO they are together.  Their connection and how they interact with one another.  Capturing their children’s reactions to their Daddy’s funny story-telling voice.  It’s the art of the family I always strive to capture.  And it’s not always easy.  Those amazing smiles usually come after some protest and maybe a few tears.  But I keep my patience with a few simple tricks that you can use if you’re going try and take a holiday portrait yourself! 

–   Get outside!  Kids are naturally more relaxed outdoors.  The light is gorgeous outside and you’re almost guaranteed a few keepers if you shoot outside.  Preferably right around the 3pm mark. 

–   Put their back to the sun!  People have this common misconception that they need to light up their kids’ faces by having them face the sun.  Not true.  Put their back to the sun and you’ll have some gorgeous results. 

 

 
–  Turn off your flash!  Especially when shooting outside.  Flash is unflattering and gets rid of some very interesting shadows on the face.  Shadows show depth and make a portrait more dimensional.  Turn off flash.  You’ll love the results.   

–  Take the pressure off.  Try to steer clear of phrases like, “Ok!  Let’s go take a picture now!!  Everyone look at me and smile!!  If you don’t smile no candy!!”  These phrases put pressure on the kids and will almost always produce less-than-desirable results.  Instead, try taking your children to a park or an unfamiliar field.  When your kids are involved in exploring, get low on their level and talk to them.  Talk to them about their favorite character from Sophia: The First, or Handy Manny.  Have your camera ready and when they glance up at you, press the shutter.  Their face will be natural and relaxed.  Even more so if you get them to laugh at you singing!  A much better smile will happen if it happens naturally rather than forcing it by saying “Cheeeeeese”. 

 

 
–  If you have sensory sensitive kiddos, be aware of their triggers and head them off at the pass.  If they don’t like grass, bring a throw blanket to toss on the grass.  Or a low stool for them to sit on.  The problem I have when I try to photograph my own son (who has classic Autism) is that he sees me every day.  I’m not interesting to him.  So, I have to make silly airplane noises and wave my hands in the air to get him to notice me.  But once he sees me and thinks, “Hey, mommy is doing something pretty silly there”. That is when I’ve got him.  I can capture his laughs in-between my silly acts. 
 

And if all of this still intimidates you, you could always invest in a professional to help you capture your families.  Special needs families are personally a favorite of mine to capture because I KNOW how I longed for someone to capture our interactions as a family together.  I needed to freeze the period in time where my sensory-seeking child would press his face into mine so hard, he’d shake.  And his infectious giggle when his daddy would make him fly up in the air.  Those moments for me are priceless.  And when I can take a family who is convinced that we’ll never get a good shot of their child because they’re fixated on the car door, that’s a challenge for me and I adore the parent’s reactions when I show them the incredible results. 

 

Laura Fiorillo is the owner of Family Tree Photography located in Sandwich, MA.   Contact familytreephotography@hotmail.com

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I’d like to thank Laura and the parents who allowed us to share their photos to demonstrate how our children are just so beautiful. While we never got that formal family photo, our pictures are unique just like our family. I cannot thank Laura enough for prompting me to do the photo shoot. Remember I once explained how Boo does the full body hug? The one that just pours out her love and enjoyment? Laura captured that moment which is so more spectacular than a staged formal shot. 


 

Thanks

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Yesterday was a crap day. For me. Not for Boo though. I wanted to let everyone know that not only did she survive the field trip she enjoyed herself. According to David she not only touched a pumpkin but plucked an apple out of a tree!

I know I wasn’t alone yesterday in my meltdown. Other parents experienced the same emotions I did. They just didn’t spew to the entire world. But I am glad I did. I almost did not post yesterday, fearful that I would offend Boo’s teachers and therapists. Fearful that I would look like an idiot when David took her and Boo did not melt down. Fearful that Boo would melt down and I wouldn’t be there to hold her in my arms.

I want to thank each and every one of you though, for supporting my meltdown with texts, e-mails and comments. I cannot tell you what it meant that you understood. Or if you didn’t understand you empathized.  A friend put it so well, this was a case of mommy guilt at it’s worse. Something we all go through during this crazy period of our life called parenthood.

Since parenthood is going to last for the rest of my life I know that there will be other moments when Mommy Guilt overwhelms me. I always thought Catholic guilt was tough, man I knew nothing before children!!

Including how I never knew that parenting was a team sport. So, thanks to each and every one of you who are on my team.

 
 


I’m taking the easy way out….

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Today I am failing as a mom. I am taking the easy way out. No, this isn’t a post for you to say Kerri you are fine, stuff happens. I am not looking for you to make me feel better because I do not deserve it. Because a mom isn’t supposed to be selfish. A mom is supposed to put her pain, her failings, her fears and her sadness aside for her child’s joy.

But I am not doing that today.

Today I am hiding my head in the sand, okay my body at work, and letting David take Boo on her field trip. Last year, I took Boo and we went to a pumpkin patch and apple picking. This year it is the same trip and I am bowing out. This is Boo last year:

You might not be able to see it, but there are tears running down her face. I let her go at her own pace (way behind her classmates). When we got to the patch all the kids were running around, she was overwhelmed. By the dirt, by the pumpkins by the noise, by who knows what. Her teacher came back with us so we were not all alone but by the time Boo got her pumpkin everyone had proceeded to the apple orchard. Again Boo tried but she was in her own world. She hated the field trip and I felt awful for making her go outside her comfort zone, even if it was what she needed. So I held back the tears (incredibly thankful for sunglasses) as the teacher gathered all the kids around for the sign along. Boo was there but not there. Her mind tired and I saw her retreating into herself.

The field trip ended and we left the farm. I cried all the way home. It wasn’t the teacher’s fault, the students or the other parents. They all included Boo. These feelings are my own and incredibly selfish. Because I looked at Boo and felt bad for her. That she didn’t enjoy herself but more than that. That I looked at Boo and saw her disability.

Not what others perceived but, as Kristi posted on Friday, how being in Public showed me how my child was not typical.

And moms are not supposed to do that. We are only supposed to see the beauty and innocence of our little ones. I failed. I cried. I realized that this is my problem and cannot blame anyone other than myself.

I know that this year will probably be different. Boo has more mobility, more words and is no longer afraid of dirt. I am sure that David will come home and tell me what fun it was, that she had a great time. So I apologize to her. Because I cannot face it. I will not chance it being a repeat of last year. I simply do not have it in me to go on another field trip of nightmares.

This is my failing, not Boo’s.

I’m so sorry Boo.