Don’t let the smell of regression intimidate you…

First it was “pull my sleeve down and cover my hand.”  I said NO and rearranged his shirt so it was resting properly and squarely on his shoulders.

A few hours later, a smiling, happy J came into the living room with a boxing glove in his hand.  He asked me to put it on him.  Same hand that he wanted covered with his sleeve.

I said NO in the same tone used when saying “silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!!!!”  He smiled and, slowly, made his way back to the third floor to put the glove in his room.

I decided the tack I will take is to keep his hands busy because idle hands and all that good stuff…

It’s still eleven days to ESY.  I think he’s bored.  I think he wants attention.  I am confused because he constantly kicks me out of his presence.  I am willing to try anything; whether it’s leaving him alone, checking on him every five minutes, taking walks when he least expects it, doing crafts, just sitting there…  I’ll try it.

I am aware that he is 20 years old.  I understand that he is not operating on the same system as I am.  I understand -especially after seeing Inside Out..go see it…it’s a must- that the little Mindy Kaling in him is probably taking over the control panel.  I’m even ok with his inner Lewis Black putting in an appearance.  I get the whole thing about a new improved, more complex control panel.  I understand that regression is normal.  I understand that unhappiness in small doses can be a good thing.  I understand that he cannot always do what I wish he would do.

Tomorrow we go to the psych for the first time in six months.  I was hoping to wave goodbye to the Risperdal, but now I’m not so sure…  To paraphrase Sheldon Cooper’s thoughts on gravity: Autism, thou art a heartless bitch!

Tomorrow is, as Scarlett O’Hara said, another day…

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