The boy,the ball, and the broken window.

Today was, ”teaching Cody to throw day”, and I would like to give all the dads some tips for this very exciting phase in the father son bonding process. The teaching part was simple, despite the 2 broken windows and bruised cat. In fact the first window to go made me so happy, as the ball actually went forward, not behind him like the previous 37 attempts. I was certain his future as a pitcher for the Yankees was secure. Until now I had made all the right moves, but that could not last.

As a reward for all the hard work Cody had put into the throwing lesson, I gave him a little money to buy anything he wanted. The “anything he wanted” part was the first little mistake. After an hour or so of putting back the toasters, coffee machines and the other kitchen appliances he had chosen, we settled on an appropriate “throwing lesson money” present. A ball. The ball itself was a great idea, the fact that it was a rubber bouncing ball was not such a great idea.

Now lets recap, an autistic boy who has just learnt to throw, is now in possession of a little, but highly elastic, projectile. As we got home Cody decided to put his new found throwing skills to the test with his new, very bouncy, toy. The living room became the test facility, and I use the military term ”facility” intentionally, as the living room resembled Baghdad Airport, projectiles flying in every direction.

It was now that my military training came into its own, as leopard crawling was the only safe way to move between the two secure areas, or the kitchen and bedroom as they were formally known. I managed to secure the red zone and neutralize the threat, or as the rest of the family saw it, put the ball in my pocket. Luckily the phrase “ gone to be with its mother” still carries some weight with Cody, or I would have had to tell him the truth. That his precious little bouncing ball is now hundreds of little balls in the neighbours garden.

I have decided to postpone archery lessons for a few more years.

Take care and laugh a little

Blaim It on The Dogs.

Farting is a much loved and respected tradition in our family, going back generations. My dad, fore instance,was Provincial Champion 7 years running and could fart the Danish National Anthem in D-minor.

This talent sometimes skips a generation, and being the lady that I am,I never fart.Fortunately Sean's genetic superiority in that department, has obviously produced some very gifted children.Cody ,we think, may be savant.

Even though Cody is showing serious talent, he is still an amateur. Signs of beginners denial are beginning to show. A couple of nights ago, after a hefty helping of cauliflower, he let rip a particularly impressive one. Now being the progressive parents we are, we believe in praising our children loud and often.So Sean was there with the "Nice one, Codes." To which Cody,without missing a beat, calmly said: " It wasn't me, it was the Dog". Kira ,with her acute observational skills,reminded us that we don't have a dog

As it turns out, we have had a lot of dogs around the house lately.
This morning it was Sean's turn to channel the phantom pooches. Cody, looking quite amused, and checking out the offending area, announces: "Who let the dogs out?"

It is my deepest wish, as a proud mother, that my son, one day, will acknowledge his legacy and follow in his forefathers footsteps.We had hoped that he could fart the South African National Anthem at the opening ceremony of the up coming World Cup.But alas,with only a month left till the big event, he has only mastered two of the three languages needed.

Take care and laugh a little.