Saturday, August 17, 2013
Elise can make toaster waffles.
We have put a bicycle chain lock on the fridge and a key lock handle on the pantry. Between Elise and Gabriel (my 14 year old son), we had no food all the time, 15 minutes after a grocery trip. So we REALLY needed to have control on when food was eaten: My son, because he is a starving 14 year old boy. At 6 foot, he is a bottomless pit. Elise, because she likes how food crunches in her teeth and doesn't have the sensory wherewithal to realize when she is full and she will eat until she is ill.
The tricky thing is that we are still getting used to locking them.
So this morning, I have all three girls in my bed with me...the next thing I know Elise comes prancing in my room, happily chowing down on a waffle sandwich: 2 waffles with peanut butter in between. "Yook, I make faffaws aw by mysef!!" (Look, I make waffles all by myself!)
As usual, I am massively proud of her independence and initiative.
Until I see that this is her second "faffaw samich"...thanks to the remains sprinkled about the kitchen...and realize, yet again, that this girl is faster than a striking snake.
I find myself thinking that parenting Elise in her low verbal state is rather like a unique forensics field...I walk around my life with limited information, scanning every scene without touching, figuring out the consequences of decisions, and the order in which they were made.
It's weird and interesting. My life could never be described as boring. I think I may still be making dendrites to store this new profession in. Supposedly the more puzzles you solve, the stronger your brain gets...at this rate, I will never be senile...I may have ulcers, but my brain will be just fine.