Getting Things Official

About about two and a half weeks ago, something finally clicked in Josh's head.  He was calm, cheerful, ready to throw himself into Circle Time at school...There was no attempt made to dislocate my arm, to rush the door, to try to bolt outside...nope, it was simply amazing. And yes, I absolutely checked for his "pod". He even took a nap.  The only thing to mar the perfection of that day was that we discovered that one of our favorite people from the school, Misty C., was moving on.  She'd gone into an interview on a whim, and of course, they snapped her up like candy.  Since June, she'd been in our corner...talking me through the dramas, quietly giving advice, laughing with me, easing Josh...she was Josh's first friend there...and I confess, knowing she was there was a huge comfort for me.  She's the kind of person you want to carry around in your pocket with you all the time, so you can take her out when you need to.  She's going to be adored in her new job...they simply won't have a choice in the matter...and as much as I wish she weren't leaving, I'm glad we at least had the chance to know her when we did, and I hope, sincerely, that our paths will cross again.

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As of this moment, my master plan to have my book published by Christmas has been delayed...but hopefully not indefinately. Jon's still going over the small print, and wants to keep doing that until all of his questions are answered satisfactorily.  Some of the wording is making him skittish (or downright hive-y), like the fact that, on the off-chance I should be sued for something I've gotten published, the company will hang me out to dry...also he keeps fretting about tax implications.  Ugh.  Now, in fairness, as I have said before, he likes to research and obsess and research and obsess before he commits to a project or purchase, and I do respect that...I do.  I'm just impatient. I'm being a pain about it (and I know it), and it isn't that we haven't had other things on our plate lately, because we have.  It isn't that I don't understand his rationale...I do. I get it...but at the same time, there's a part of me that is kind of overriding the rest of my brain right now.   The part of me that was less She Who Tries to Get Playdough Out of the Carpet (and Fails), and more as just me.  I wanted to get this project done and put to bed and see what happened and use the momentum from that one to kick me into gear on the next project...but I'm simply shelved for the time being, and it's frustrating.  I suppose the good thing is that I've added a few more things to the original project, but that doesn't really seem to balance things out. It's hard to lighten up, even when I know I need to.

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Thanksgiving began with poor Jon, who had been up since 5:30, departing our house to beat our septic system back into submission.  It was cold and wet and slippery, and he and Harry were once again hip-deep or higher in stuff I'd prefer to give as little thought to as possible. Harry is the only person I know who can be thigh-high in sewage and still whistle cheerfully and sincerely. Truly, he is a remarkable fellow.  We think/hope it is a clogged pipe likely brought on by a small boy with an addiction to profound amounts of toilet paper, but we fear we (read: Jon) may have to dig six feet in hard earth to get to the septic tank (because of the position on the hill, a mechanical digger would not be an option).  Several hours later, a newly scoured Jon piled into the car with us to attend the November festivus. As usual, there was a turkey the size of Godzilla, likely Idaho's complete stock of potatoes, and the Grands, and Auntie Suzing, and Jay and Dev, and the Nagles, who brought even more food.  Because. We. Didn't. Have. Enough. 

With so many people Josh was darting around like a hummingbird, flirting and bouncing off of everyone.  Mom chimed in to tell Grandma O that he wasn't like this all the time. I smiled and bit my lip...and my mother gave me The Look and repeated her statement. I continued to remain silent, and then found something else to do that took me out of the area of impending doom. In fairness,  he isn't like that all the time... Sometimes, he's actually asleep. :)  Jokes aside, props and props go to the Uncles who made it their cause to wear the small one down.  They played outside, they swung him around. They tickled him until he couldn't breathe, and every minute of it was absolutely adorable. 

The only fly in the ointment came later that evening, when my camera spontaneously formated the hundreds of pictures I had been taking (including the last pictures of Josh and Misty together at school, and Anna's last playdate with Josh), when I was trying to do a quickview and see what pictures we had.  There simply aren't enough expletives in the world.

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Had a big scare about two weeks ago. Josh was acting listless and he was having low-grade fevers, so we were doing the usual overnight campout in the living room. He was eating little, drinking little, but still lucid, when he suddenly spiked to 104.2 -- one quick tylenol dose and  we were back in Urgent Care where he was diagnosed with tonsillitis.  They took his temperature twice. The first time it was 103, then Jon asked them to check it again, and it had jumped to 104+, so Josh was motrined and we got his pink stuff and went home.  We were tag-teaming the Nurse's Hotline, Mom and Harry...and I don't have the vaguest clue who was on call at that nurse's line, but at one point they said we shouldn't bring Josh in unless he had a fever of 105.  (Yes, you read that right.  Can I get a WTF from the audience?  His poor little braincells start cooking at 104, what was she thinking?  )  Ten days of gritty pink stuff and the Small Boy is back to normal. 

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Our last great adventure occurred on December 12th.  Josh's school was hosting a special "Santa's Workshop", where kids could come in and do a checklist of elf-y things and then get declared "Official Elf" at the end of the day.

After some initial trouble with a frozen garage door, we got there about a half an hour in.  Josh was quickly helped into his official Santa's Helper costume (much to my dismay...I mean, how was I going to get that off of him at the end?) and we were off.

Josh's first stop was the mailroom, where he dictated a letter to Santa to me (and I wrote it down exactly as he said.  I have wisely decided to take pictures of all of Josh's wishlists, partly for posterity, and partly for, well...you know...), made a card for Harry (who else?!), and wrote a card for a sick little boy named Noah who wanted to have a million Christmas cards for before Christmas.  Next stop, Workshop #1, where he made a bead bracelet and a hot-cocoa dipping spoon.  He also got to sit on Santa's lap and be shy for a few minutes. As he was working on his cocoa spoon, Santa pulled his beard down and away from his face to itch just below his nose...and Josh leaned over and pointed that out to me in a very conspiratorial voice.  I mentioned that Santa was magic, but sometimes, he liked to showoff a little. At Workshop #2,  Josh made a bookmark and then had a great time making a "snowball" out of soap shavings and water.  He made the biggest one they had seen all day.  Workshop three was a painting stop, and Josh painted a present for Granma Marsha and I painted one, as well.  Our last stop was the gift wrap room where three pounds of tape and two inches of paper made Josh's presents simply beautiful.  As much as I looked forward to Josh having his "Official" certificate, I dreaded going back to Alissa's office because I was going to have to tell him to give up his elf costume...only to find out that Josh got to keep it.  I don't know who was happier, me, or the elf I brought with me.  On the way home, we stopped and got Josh a milkshake in celebration, and as we waited in the drive-thru', Josh began yelping and bouncing excitedly.  Apparently there was ANOTHER Santa in the restaurant, but THIS ONE had glasses...and why did he have glasses and could Josh go in and show him that he (Josh) was his newest elf?  *sigh* I told Josh that Santa was feeling whimical (Jon said I should have said Santa needed them to read), and no, he had to stay in the car this time.

As to the question of the multiple Santas, I thought I had come up with a creative strategy there...I told him that just before Christmas, Santa (for the purpose of quality control) was able to magically split himself into many many Santas.  This way, he could check in with little kids, double check his notes, and just keep better tabs on things.  Then, on Christmas Eve, all of the Santas become one Santa again, and the one Santa takes the toys to everyone...but that if he looked closely, at any given moment, he will catch Santa pretending to be people that he knows...that there's a little bit of Santa in everyone he meets.

(and Jon, when Josh is not present, merely grins at me, and mentions that if my name were Pinocchio, my nose would be a sequoia by now...)