I have long considered Quinn to be the most typical of my three children. Which is ironic, considering that he is so batshit crazy.

I can’t even put a link with the words “batshit crazy” because there are far too many to choose from.

Today I took Quinn to a Child Find (early intervention) screening at the suggestion of his preschool teacher.

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I Sure Do Know How to Make a First Impression

We’ve had Jack on a waitlist for a social skills group for a while now. It finally came through for us and his first day was this week. I’m particularly excited because the child of a Mysterious Local Austim Blogger (M-LAB from here on out)* is in the same group. M-LAB seems to have her shit together when it comes to therapists and what not. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken a therapy recommendation from her. Plus, her kid seems cool.

Jack was happy to be in the waiting room and happily went off with his group. I was very pleased until the end of the session when the other two kids came running out to give their parents giant hugs and there was no Jack to be seen.

See, Jack was delighted with the therapy room and had no interest in leaving. So I dragged him out and dropped him on the ground. I was standing over him with about a third of my attention on the therapist who was telling us about the session and two thirds of my attention on Jack, who was clearly planning a break for it.

He made his move, I reached down quickly to grab him, and instead of catching his arm with my hand as planned, I caught the side of his face with my fingernail.

Commence with the screaming and the crying and the guilt and the holding on to doorjambs with fingernails and the prying off of doorjambs and, you know, basically the whole scene.

He made me say “I’m sorry” one hundred times. And then he made me say, “I’m sorry for putting your skin on my body.”

He was pissed. Plus it looked like it really, really hurt. My kids don’t use band-aids very much, but Jack insisted on one after the great skin stealing of Two Thousand Ten. Of course, the band-aids I have in my car quite literally pre-date Quinn and feature The Wiggles on them. In fact, they are so old that they still have Greg Wiggle instead of the new guy who replaced him.

Here is Jack in the parking lot of the 7-11 where I took him to get an ice cream bar to bribe him into happiness and forgiveness.

It only kinda worked.

Team Stimey may be loud and buffoonish, but at least you don’t forget us immediately, right? How important are first impressions anyway?

* Thus unnamed because she doesn’t publicize where she lives on her blog.

12 thoughts on “I Sure Do Know How to Make a First Impression

  1. I once scratched my newborn with a Baby Bjorn, and he bled. I will never forget it, and I still feel guilty to this day and hate those Bjorns!

    Jack really knows how to work you, doesn’t he? Smart fellow!

  2. “I’m sorry for putting your skin on my body” -that’s a keeper. I do love how his mind works. Kinda scary thought that the ice cream bribe didn’t seem to be working as magically as I always imagined it would. Now I’m a little afraid. It’s arguably the best tool in my arsenal.

    Congrats on getting into the group. Don’t you love it when things eventually work out! -Monica

  3. Oh..I have done this sort of thing too many times to count :( I usually have really, really long nails..well, talons. And I have scratched, poked, name it. I’ve since learned to cut them down ;P The kids know it’s an accident, but it doesn’t make the ‘momma guilt’ any less. I always feel so bad…

    (From what I read on your blog….you sound like a wonderful mom to me!!)


  4. Ahh first impressions with our kids… LOL always a boon to our parenting confidence.
    We took our son in to be admitted to his new treatment facility and he had a mini-meltdown in the office. When I moved to do the “restraint” maneuver we were taught to use when things got ugly – he LOST it all over me… Screaming Don’t Touch ME! You always want to TOUCH me! Stop it!!! All I could think was – The police will be here soon to whisk me away! I was mortified… and wanted to crawl under the desk – then his intake therapist let me off the hook by saying that he was having a normal reaction to being admitted, and to let him freak… whew! And so far, they’ve not sent us packing when we go visit, so it must not have been as bad as I thought…

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