01 April 2012

My April Fools Baby

It's the last birthday of the month of birthdays. Pop's is March 3, Snap's is March 19 (and no, no post this year for her. I was too busy treating her like a princess for a whole week... seriously, when do they get old enough that this stops?) and Crackle's is today, April 1. Interestingly, they were all due March 24. Apparently Canada Day is HAWT at my house. :)

April 1 is a shitty day to have a baby. The two anesthetists on call were busy and they had to call someone in for my surprise c-section (surprise! your baby's enormous head is stuck in your pelvis!) The guy they called in thought it was an April Fools joke and didn't come. They had to call him again, half an hour later. Just for that, April Fools Day is dead to me. So is the On Notice generator I was going to use for a picture here. Because it's actually dead. To me and apparently everyone else.

Anyway, it's his 6th birthday. A bittersweet day in the home of a BC kid with autism. One one hand, birthday! Cake! Toys! Treats! Gets to do whatever he wants (within reason)! On the other hand, the autism funding drops to $6000 from $22,000 and the OMG what the hell are we going to do?! feeling sets in. But I will worry about that tomorrow. Today, I celebrate my middle child.

Crackle is cute. Adorably cute. He's got blond curls, perfect blue eyes and the grubby hands of a six year old who couldn't care less about dirt. He's simultaneously easy and hard to please. He likes to play with jigsaw puzzles and blocks, but a deck of cards or a new package of socks is the best thing EVER. Socks are to be stacked, not worn. He stacks them up carefully, touching each one gently with the back of his hand after it's on the stack. When the stack falls, he starts over. Shirts will also do. We had to strap his bureau drawers closed because he pulls all his clothes out to stack them. And giving him a few isn't enough. He tries to take his brother's shirt right off his body. It's funny, but Pop isn't amused. Crackle loves jumping on the trampoline (and remind me to tell the story of setting up the trampoline sometime). He'll do it alone, but he loves it if an adult comes and jumps with him. Any adult will do. Including the Mormon missionaries that come by sometimes.

He's also simultaneously loud and quiet. He's got a loud, high-pitched vocal stim that makes me want to wear earphones. But that's pretty much the only sound he makes. Other than uncontrollable laughter, that is. And that's hilarious to watch, but a little scary too.

He's got no language yet. No sign. No picture exchange. Not enough attention span to learn either of them. That he's as happy as he is, is a testament to his Mom's psychic ability his resilience and stubbornness. He figures out how to get what he wants, and he tells me by taking me to what he wants and showing me. The figuring it out thing is scary. Because it's damn hard to child-proof a house from a clever 6 year old with the impulse control and danger awareness of a toddler. Yesterday, barreling down the highway in the Loser Cruiser, my son figured out how to get out of his seatbelt. EEP.

So today I'm making him a cake, and I'm going to buy him a big bag of marbles and set up his Marble Works for him. We'll go outside a million times. I'll get him so potato chips. I'll make him some salmon and roasted cauliflower with nutmeg for supper. And I'll sit with him and stack cards, socks and shirts for as long as he likes. Happy Birthday, my April Fools Baby.