Ti'anna's 5th birthday is in a few weeks- I shall do my best to take more then. We're hoping to keep it pretty low-key, as we are practically partied out. (Motivationally and monetarily speaking!)
Oh, and Ethan is reading.
:)
Monday, January 16, 2006
holidays...
I realize I promised Thanksgiving pictures almost 6 weeks ago- but then there was Christmas, then New Year's, than birthdays, and woosh- time flies. The fun doesn't stop after New Year's Day around here- it keeps up until the end of January. We have 7 birthdays in the immediate family in January... *whew* I used to have several friends adding to this mix, but I eventually started hanging out with a more diverse crowd... *laugh* To complicate the photos situation, Tim and I hosted all the holiday parties this year for family/friends, so there was precious little time for shuttlebuggery. What few pictures I managed to snap on Thanksgiving before all the guests arrived and the last fifteen-minute prep frenzy I have combined here in a collage- all I have to say is my house sure looks a lot nicer in candlelight! Click on the image for a larger pic.
Ti'anna's 5th birthday is in a few weeks- I shall do my best to take more then. We're hoping to keep it pretty low-key, as we are practically partied out. (Motivationally and monetarily speaking!)
Oh, and Ethan is reading.
:)
Ti'anna's 5th birthday is in a few weeks- I shall do my best to take more then. We're hoping to keep it pretty low-key, as we are practically partied out. (Motivationally and monetarily speaking!)
Oh, and Ethan is reading.
:)
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS!
ETHAN CAN NOW PUT TWO WORDS TOGETHER!!!
*does a slaphappy little jig*
I can't even begin say how excited I am about this!
Not just 'nighty-night,' but:
Ni'night, Mommy.
Ni'night, Tah'na.
Ni'night, Daddy.
Ni'night, Eh'tan.
What are we having for dessert? Not just 'cake,' not just 'chocolate,' but:
Chocolate cake!
Not just 'hello,' but:
Hello, Ju-ju! (Julia is a dear friend of ours who is over our house frequently.)
We don't have to tell him when to say goodbye now. He says goodbye whenever he's done having a conversation now! (OOOH, social cues!!! *giddy*) Instead of just wandering away when he loses interest in what we're doing, he pauses, looks at me, and says, "Bye-bye!" Then he gives me a little wave and off he goes.
Language HAPPENS!
*does a slaphappy little jig*
I can't even begin say how excited I am about this!
Not just 'nighty-night,' but:
Ni'night, Mommy.
Ni'night, Tah'na.
Ni'night, Daddy.
Ni'night, Eh'tan.
What are we having for dessert? Not just 'cake,' not just 'chocolate,' but:
Chocolate cake!
Not just 'hello,' but:
Hello, Ju-ju! (Julia is a dear friend of ours who is over our house frequently.)
We don't have to tell him when to say goodbye now. He says goodbye whenever he's done having a conversation now! (OOOH, social cues!!! *giddy*) Instead of just wandering away when he loses interest in what we're doing, he pauses, looks at me, and says, "Bye-bye!" Then he gives me a little wave and off he goes.
Language HAPPENS!
in a nutshell...
All folks following Ethan's situation, PLEASE take a minute to read this. I found it extremely well put and easy to understand. I know I tried earlier this year to explain what I've meant when I've mentioned that Ethan is "autistic" but I think -as usual- I overexplained and got too technical to do any good. This is a wonderful (and mercifully brief) explanation of the basic reason people are diagnosed as being on "the autism spectrum" (and it has nothing to do with eye contact, head banging, or counting cards in Las Vegas! *grin*)- the common thread that links the broad spectrum of pervasive developmental disorders together. Enjoy!
Monday, October 31, 2005
like father, like son...?
We've been watching this last few weeks as Ethan is discovering a new aptitude: the computer. He's been fascinated with our computers for as long as I can remember. Because we run a computer repair/service shop out of our home, this fascination has often proved to be a fatal attraction, both for the PC's in question, and for the Perpetrator.
The television/VCR/DVD player have started to bore him now that he's so thoroughly mastered them (he even figured out entirely on his own- with a chair- how to get behind them to switch the audio/video cables from the back of the VCR to the back of the DVD and vice versa when he is ready to view a different type of media, so that when I want the house movie-free I have to hide the cables in another room!)
Naturally, he's turned to the other electronic equipment in the house now. He never really troubled with our computers before, even though we have them on all day every day, and mostly stuck to hitting reset switches (usually right in the middle of hard drives trying to reformat and other such tragedy) or jamming various tools into the manifold orifices of computers on the tech stations waiting for surgery.
A few months ago he unscrewed and "lost" the tiny black antenna off the back of a client's computer (part of the wireless network card) and we combed the house for it unsuccessfully for four days. Tim had resigned to send me on the hour-long drive out to Walmart to replace the whole card assembly at our expense, when it suddenly occurred to me that Ethan is not a thief without a purpose- ever. So what would he have intended for that thing if he had taken it off? Obviously little black antennaes are not standard on the back of machines (AARRGH! It's not the Way Things Are!!!!) but since it was attached so thoroughly, it MUST belong with the computer in SOME way... I popped open the case, and sure enough, he had stuck it back into the case through a small hole in the back left open for an expansion card. Perfectly intact, carefully handled, and with the computer to which it belonged- we should have expected no different.
As I have mentioned before here on the blog, Ethan knows his shapes, colors, numbers, and letters VERY well. Upper AND lower case letters, even recognizing them upside down or backwards. (Wow.) He has recently taken an interest in actually watching us while we work. Unlike his sister, who has a strong need to chatter incessantly and struggle to maintain our attention while we work, Ethan will sit right between us and watch quietly over our shoulder as we type or surf or what have you (he has even developed a remarkably accurate sound that replicates the noise of speedy typing).
But he's been watching. It only took a few times of walking out of the office for a minute and coming back to find that he had made fifteen new shortcuts to nowhere on my desktop, or had decided to send a nonsense IM (instant message) to a client at an attorney's office, to realize that we needed to lock our screen if we were going to step away from them even for a second. Our computers are networked (for anyone not computer literate) and so each user has a profile that they log in with. Since Tim uses several computers concurrently during the day while working, he is most often logged in as Administrator. So, when we lock our screens, a little dialog box pops up with the user name "Administrator" typed into one field, and a blank field waiting for the appropriate password. Every time we leave the office, he's in there like a flash, trying to appease that ever-present, ever-demanding "rectangyang" (as he calls it). We have found everything from his alphabet typed over and over, interspersed with numbers 1-9, or permutations thereof (such as 12131415161718191021222324252627282920) which pleased us, but was no real surprise to us. He started using other keys appropriately (like backspace, or when he didn't want to backspace the 300+ characters he had typed into the username field, he used "TAB" to switch between fields until the block of text was highlighted and THEN hit backspace to delete them all at once). He started fiddling with the mouse, watching it move when he moved it. Then it happened.
He typed "admnxstaori."
And he kept doing it, a little different, and a little more like "administrator" each time. We quietly observed as every day he got closer, not intervening. When he was consistantly typing "administao," we decided to help him, just a little. I showed him, once, slowly, our password. He typed it perfectly, and now gets it right every time. Two days after that, he got "administrator" right and logged onto my machine while I was in the bathroom, and now we're in for it!
We started deleting "Administrator" before we walked away, but he could do it from memory now without a hitch. So, we sneakily hit CAPS LOCK before we walked away. Now he could type it perfectly but not get in. Three days ago I found "admInIsTraTOr" in the username field. I guess he figured out the SHIFT key!
Tim and I are in a quandary. We want to encourage Ethan to figure things out, but every time we raise the bar he gets better at jumping. Now what do we do if we have important work in progress and need to answer the door or heat up our coffee?
A few days a week, I have the kids gather around the computer with me and explore the universe at Neopets.com, which Ethan simply adores. They haven't developed the skills to play the games on their own, but enjoy watching and participating. We've this week started allowing him and Ti'anna an hour or so to play on a game site built for small kids called Herman's Homepage, and Ethan has developed considerable mouse skills in only three days. He plays puzzles, memory games, counting games, and more all by himself without coaching. Yesterday, I allowed him to play while I was cooking dinner, and he ran out every couple minutes to get me, babbling nonsense punctuated by the word "help." He led me by the hand and showed me he had accidentally brought up a dialog box by hitting the right mouse button or had brought up a blank email somehow and needed me to return him to his game. This morning, I found this:
Click for a larger image
I guess he was done playing with Herman, and wanted to try Neopets out himself... Notice the attempt at Google, which I probably type 6+ times a day, and the perfect "administrator."
And all this from a little fellow who is practically non-verbal!
The television/VCR/DVD player have started to bore him now that he's so thoroughly mastered them (he even figured out entirely on his own- with a chair- how to get behind them to switch the audio/video cables from the back of the VCR to the back of the DVD and vice versa when he is ready to view a different type of media, so that when I want the house movie-free I have to hide the cables in another room!)
Naturally, he's turned to the other electronic equipment in the house now. He never really troubled with our computers before, even though we have them on all day every day, and mostly stuck to hitting reset switches (usually right in the middle of hard drives trying to reformat and other such tragedy) or jamming various tools into the manifold orifices of computers on the tech stations waiting for surgery.
A few months ago he unscrewed and "lost" the tiny black antenna off the back of a client's computer (part of the wireless network card) and we combed the house for it unsuccessfully for four days. Tim had resigned to send me on the hour-long drive out to Walmart to replace the whole card assembly at our expense, when it suddenly occurred to me that Ethan is not a thief without a purpose- ever. So what would he have intended for that thing if he had taken it off? Obviously little black antennaes are not standard on the back of machines (AARRGH! It's not the Way Things Are!!!!) but since it was attached so thoroughly, it MUST belong with the computer in SOME way... I popped open the case, and sure enough, he had stuck it back into the case through a small hole in the back left open for an expansion card. Perfectly intact, carefully handled, and with the computer to which it belonged- we should have expected no different.
As I have mentioned before here on the blog, Ethan knows his shapes, colors, numbers, and letters VERY well. Upper AND lower case letters, even recognizing them upside down or backwards. (Wow.) He has recently taken an interest in actually watching us while we work. Unlike his sister, who has a strong need to chatter incessantly and struggle to maintain our attention while we work, Ethan will sit right between us and watch quietly over our shoulder as we type or surf or what have you (he has even developed a remarkably accurate sound that replicates the noise of speedy typing).
But he's been watching. It only took a few times of walking out of the office for a minute and coming back to find that he had made fifteen new shortcuts to nowhere on my desktop, or had decided to send a nonsense IM (instant message) to a client at an attorney's office, to realize that we needed to lock our screen if we were going to step away from them even for a second. Our computers are networked (for anyone not computer literate) and so each user has a profile that they log in with. Since Tim uses several computers concurrently during the day while working, he is most often logged in as Administrator. So, when we lock our screens, a little dialog box pops up with the user name "Administrator" typed into one field, and a blank field waiting for the appropriate password. Every time we leave the office, he's in there like a flash, trying to appease that ever-present, ever-demanding "rectangyang" (as he calls it). We have found everything from his alphabet typed over and over, interspersed with numbers 1-9, or permutations thereof (such as 12131415161718191021222324252627282920) which pleased us, but was no real surprise to us. He started using other keys appropriately (like backspace, or when he didn't want to backspace the 300+ characters he had typed into the username field, he used "TAB" to switch between fields until the block of text was highlighted and THEN hit backspace to delete them all at once). He started fiddling with the mouse, watching it move when he moved it. Then it happened.
He typed "admnxstaori."
And he kept doing it, a little different, and a little more like "administrator" each time. We quietly observed as every day he got closer, not intervening. When he was consistantly typing "administao," we decided to help him, just a little. I showed him, once, slowly, our password. He typed it perfectly, and now gets it right every time. Two days after that, he got "administrator" right and logged onto my machine while I was in the bathroom, and now we're in for it!
We started deleting "Administrator" before we walked away, but he could do it from memory now without a hitch. So, we sneakily hit CAPS LOCK before we walked away. Now he could type it perfectly but not get in. Three days ago I found "admInIsTraTOr" in the username field. I guess he figured out the SHIFT key!
Tim and I are in a quandary. We want to encourage Ethan to figure things out, but every time we raise the bar he gets better at jumping. Now what do we do if we have important work in progress and need to answer the door or heat up our coffee?
A few days a week, I have the kids gather around the computer with me and explore the universe at Neopets.com, which Ethan simply adores. They haven't developed the skills to play the games on their own, but enjoy watching and participating. We've this week started allowing him and Ti'anna an hour or so to play on a game site built for small kids called Herman's Homepage, and Ethan has developed considerable mouse skills in only three days. He plays puzzles, memory games, counting games, and more all by himself without coaching. Yesterday, I allowed him to play while I was cooking dinner, and he ran out every couple minutes to get me, babbling nonsense punctuated by the word "help." He led me by the hand and showed me he had accidentally brought up a dialog box by hitting the right mouse button or had brought up a blank email somehow and needed me to return him to his game. This morning, I found this:
Click for a larger imageI guess he was done playing with Herman, and wanted to try Neopets out himself... Notice the attempt at Google, which I probably type 6+ times a day, and the perfect "administrator."
And all this from a little fellow who is practically non-verbal!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
caterpillars
Okay, I apologize, and admit by so doing that I have once again let far too long slip past between posts... But I have a creative excuse, if you have a moment to hear it.
Watching Ethan and Ti'anna progress is like watching an inchworm and a millipede crawl along a branch.
Ti'anna is a smooth silvery millipede, who at first glance doesn't really appear to be crawling so much as gliding. Her supple scales move seamlessly, more shimmering than rippling as she cruises along.
But when you look closer, you can see the symphony of amazingly quick and perfectly orchestrated steps her many legs are making. You becomes so fascinated with this movement that until you blink and suddenly come back to your senses, you hardly realize she's traveled a whole foot. She's such a joy to watch that you almost take for granted where it is she's trying to get- it's hard to notice milestones passing when you're entranced with the journey.
Ethan, on the other hand, is a translucent yellow-green inchworm. His movements seem awkward, and fragile. Sillouetted against the sky, you can see the sun shining right through him, illuminating him; he seems ephemeral and otherworldly.
You want to reach out and put your hands under the branch in case he falls off. You feel like you should try somehow to help him, maybe nudge him in the right direction, but you're afraid to touch him lest you inadvertantly crush his soft, vulnerable body. His front end holds perfectly still, his hungry little mouth twitching wildly, and progress seems to halt completely. But his back end is working hard, bringing his middle up into the air as his hindmost legs get closer and closer to his front legs until suddenly... woosh! His head and shoulders are a whole inch closer to his goal, all at once, and the process begins again. It's both easy to want to cheer him on, and exhausting to watch.
I guess as a mommy, serving as both facilitator and equipper for my little springtime bugs, its hard to know when to call others to come watch the marathon with me. Some days I feel like every second of the process is monumental, absolutely vital. Other days go by and I hardly notice them as they breeze past. But the journey continues ever on, and I know only that I am indescribably priveledged to witness it, and encourage it in every way I can muster.
Thanks for helping me cheer them on!
Watching Ethan and Ti'anna progress is like watching an inchworm and a millipede crawl along a branch.
Ti'anna is a smooth silvery millipede, who at first glance doesn't really appear to be crawling so much as gliding. Her supple scales move seamlessly, more shimmering than rippling as she cruises along.
But when you look closer, you can see the symphony of amazingly quick and perfectly orchestrated steps her many legs are making. You becomes so fascinated with this movement that until you blink and suddenly come back to your senses, you hardly realize she's traveled a whole foot. She's such a joy to watch that you almost take for granted where it is she's trying to get- it's hard to notice milestones passing when you're entranced with the journey.Ethan, on the other hand, is a translucent yellow-green inchworm. His movements seem awkward, and fragile. Sillouetted against the sky, you can see the sun shining right through him, illuminating him; he seems ephemeral and otherworldly.
You want to reach out and put your hands under the branch in case he falls off. You feel like you should try somehow to help him, maybe nudge him in the right direction, but you're afraid to touch him lest you inadvertantly crush his soft, vulnerable body. His front end holds perfectly still, his hungry little mouth twitching wildly, and progress seems to halt completely. But his back end is working hard, bringing his middle up into the air as his hindmost legs get closer and closer to his front legs until suddenly... woosh! His head and shoulders are a whole inch closer to his goal, all at once, and the process begins again. It's both easy to want to cheer him on, and exhausting to watch.I guess as a mommy, serving as both facilitator and equipper for my little springtime bugs, its hard to know when to call others to come watch the marathon with me. Some days I feel like every second of the process is monumental, absolutely vital. Other days go by and I hardly notice them as they breeze past. But the journey continues ever on, and I know only that I am indescribably priveledged to witness it, and encourage it in every way I can muster.
Thanks for helping me cheer them on!
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
new glasses
ti'anna was very unhappy about still being in the car towards the end of a very long day, so i pointed the camera at her and she perked right up... girls will be girls!
Friday, July 22, 2005
Stirring Echoes
Ethan's echolalia is a bit convoluted at times. It's not that he exactly says what he expects you to say in a given situation, but more like he's initiating a script, nudging you to remember your lines.
Here's an example. He's stubbed his toe. He wants my attention concerning this matter. So he walks lumpingly towards me, dragging his leg really ob-viously, and says, "Are you okay? Are you okay?" (Which actually comes out like "Ahyeeoh-kay?" -barely two syllables, mostly run-on vowels, with a distinct pitch swing UP on the last syllable).
I must acknowledge this by saying, "Ouch. Are you okay?"
Then he says, "Ouch. Are you okay? Don't cry." ("O-ch. Ahyeeoh-kay? Doh-kah'ee.") Then he whacks himself on the head to demonstrate he would like me to comfort him by stroking his hair.
I may touch the wounded area after obliging him with the hair stroking, and a hug; and say, "Ouch! Are you okay, Ethan? Don't cry, it's okay," or something to that effect. I am required to mimic his words to show I understand, I guess. Then all is well with him, and he will proffer his forehead that I might kiss it. Then he's off on his merry way.
He will not say 'ouch.' He'll just get stuck in a loop endless, repeating 'Are you okay, are you okay,' till somebody responds correctly with 'Ouch. Are you okay?' If you try to skip to the wrong bit, he'll freak out and yell, 'Are you okay?! ARE YOU OKAY?' The routine must be reset and done correctly from the beginning.
Geez.
But he says 'thank you' now! Correctly, at the right times, and in the right context! And that's a step in the right direction from the imperious 'thank-you' when he wanted something from you.
He has also finally discerned the difference between water and all other forms of consumable liquid. He now says "djink" when referring to my coffee or a soda or etc. and "water" only when requesting the bottled type of water. I think that pointing out that he was bathing in "water" and that the river was "water" finally sunk in somehow. Cool, huh?
Newly conquered topics, identified/labelled verbally on a regular basis and of his own accord (we are not using flash cards or doing any type of formal instruction whatsoever):
You never can tell when he's going to be okay about veering from the Way Things Are Done. But after he starts freaking out, its really really hard to calm him down. Sometimes even starting again and Doing It Right doesn't help.
Example: Bathtime. When we are putting Ethan in the tub, the plug must be put in IMMEDIATELY lest Ethan get the notion we are planning to try and shower him, which he HATES. A moment's hesitation, and panic may ensue.
Next, the basket of toys must be given to him in entirety, so that he can dump the whole thing in the water with him. If I hand him just a few toys, he freaks out, because he thinks the bath may be too brief. (I think part of that issue stems from the fact that filling the basket with toys is part of the tub-exiting routine, "Tidy Up.")
The removal of the plug signifies the End of Bathtime, and serves as the initiation of the "Tidy Up" process, in which every toy must be returned to its basket. If I try to unplug the tub temporarily to let some tepid water out and fill the tub with warmer water (before he is personally ready to get out) the panic and weeping begins. He mournfully cries, "Tidy up, tidy up," and blinded by his tears, starts to fill the basket. I've tried turning on the faucet first to show him that I'm not cutting his tub-time short, I've even tried sneaking. Not a chance. He also WILL NOT put any toys into the basket unless the plug has been removed.
Variations from this routine are known to keep him weepy and extremely touchy about everything for up to two hours after Bathtime. Needless to say, I rarely bathe him in the morning, lest I accidentally set him off and ruin his mood till lunch.
It's such a relief for me that Tim works from home. At any time, if I feel like I am not able to handle his meltdowns alone, Tim is only a cell phone and five minutes away. If things get totally out of hand, I can shut Ethan in his bedroom and sit down to breathe deeply until Tim gets there with a fresh batch of patience and ideas on how to help Ethan get a grip. I really admire the parents out there who are in this situation on their own and manage not to lose it completely! You guys are truly amazing.
Here's an example. He's stubbed his toe. He wants my attention concerning this matter. So he walks lumpingly towards me, dragging his leg really ob-viously, and says, "Are you okay? Are you okay?" (Which actually comes out like "Ahyeeoh-kay?" -barely two syllables, mostly run-on vowels, with a distinct pitch swing UP on the last syllable).
I must acknowledge this by saying, "Ouch. Are you okay?"
Then he says, "Ouch. Are you okay? Don't cry." ("O-ch. Ahyeeoh-kay? Doh-kah'ee.") Then he whacks himself on the head to demonstrate he would like me to comfort him by stroking his hair.
I may touch the wounded area after obliging him with the hair stroking, and a hug; and say, "Ouch! Are you okay, Ethan? Don't cry, it's okay," or something to that effect. I am required to mimic his words to show I understand, I guess. Then all is well with him, and he will proffer his forehead that I might kiss it. Then he's off on his merry way.
He will not say 'ouch.' He'll just get stuck in a loop endless, repeating 'Are you okay, are you okay,' till somebody responds correctly with 'Ouch. Are you okay?' If you try to skip to the wrong bit, he'll freak out and yell, 'Are you okay?! ARE YOU OKAY?' The routine must be reset and done correctly from the beginning.
Geez.
But he says 'thank you' now! Correctly, at the right times, and in the right context! And that's a step in the right direction from the imperious 'thank-you' when he wanted something from you.
He has also finally discerned the difference between water and all other forms of consumable liquid. He now says "djink" when referring to my coffee or a soda or etc. and "water" only when requesting the bottled type of water. I think that pointing out that he was bathing in "water" and that the river was "water" finally sunk in somehow. Cool, huh?
Newly conquered topics, identified/labelled verbally on a regular basis and of his own accord (we are not using flash cards or doing any type of formal instruction whatsoever):
- Basic colors (Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple)
- Basic shapes (Triangle, square, circle)
- The entire uppercase alphabet (Go, Ethan! Even out of order, in weird fonts, on packaging, in magazines, etc.)
- Numbers 1-10 (Zero baffles him. What is there zero of? How can nothing be something?)
- Calls several different people by their name and turns to look at them when asked where they are. (Still no "Mom" or "Dad," though... *sniff*)
You never can tell when he's going to be okay about veering from the Way Things Are Done. But after he starts freaking out, its really really hard to calm him down. Sometimes even starting again and Doing It Right doesn't help.
Example: Bathtime. When we are putting Ethan in the tub, the plug must be put in IMMEDIATELY lest Ethan get the notion we are planning to try and shower him, which he HATES. A moment's hesitation, and panic may ensue.
Next, the basket of toys must be given to him in entirety, so that he can dump the whole thing in the water with him. If I hand him just a few toys, he freaks out, because he thinks the bath may be too brief. (I think part of that issue stems from the fact that filling the basket with toys is part of the tub-exiting routine, "Tidy Up.")
The removal of the plug signifies the End of Bathtime, and serves as the initiation of the "Tidy Up" process, in which every toy must be returned to its basket. If I try to unplug the tub temporarily to let some tepid water out and fill the tub with warmer water (before he is personally ready to get out) the panic and weeping begins. He mournfully cries, "Tidy up, tidy up," and blinded by his tears, starts to fill the basket. I've tried turning on the faucet first to show him that I'm not cutting his tub-time short, I've even tried sneaking. Not a chance. He also WILL NOT put any toys into the basket unless the plug has been removed.
Variations from this routine are known to keep him weepy and extremely touchy about everything for up to two hours after Bathtime. Needless to say, I rarely bathe him in the morning, lest I accidentally set him off and ruin his mood till lunch.
It's such a relief for me that Tim works from home. At any time, if I feel like I am not able to handle his meltdowns alone, Tim is only a cell phone and five minutes away. If things get totally out of hand, I can shut Ethan in his bedroom and sit down to breathe deeply until Tim gets there with a fresh batch of patience and ideas on how to help Ethan get a grip. I really admire the parents out there who are in this situation on their own and manage not to lose it completely! You guys are truly amazing.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Alpha-Drill
Yesterday Ti'anna and I took out the set of large flash cards that each feature a glossy photo of some exotic animal and a letter that corresponds to the animal's name, and wielded them at Ethan. I have never found these terribly useful with Ti'anna, since she does not like to guess wrong, and most of the animals are so bizarre that she had no idea what they were, but after having Ethan point out a few letters to me correctly on several occasions, I decided Ti'anna and I would drill him and find out just how much he knows without easily recognizable pictorial cues. He had never seen these cards before- they have been put away for years, and they include such weird zoo animals as "L - lemur" and "N - numbat." No simple 'C' for cat or 'D' for dog around here, no sir. So we mixed 'em up, and let him have it, so to speak, one card at a time.
And he got them all right!
Ti'anna was so happy for him. And finally wanted to know what all the weird animals were. (Zoboomafoo, anyone? I guess she might actually be ready to sit through that one now!) On a side note, she has decided she wants to learn to dance like a ballerina (Thank you, Angelina Ballerina!). I know her interests last about as long as mine, but are just as intense, so I did the responsible, loving thing- I checked out an instructional video for toddler ballet. We'll see how she does with that. If this lasts any length of time, we might consider classes for her. But her track record proves her capriciousness, and I'd be surprised to see this fascination last longer than a week, despite my encouragement and support. Like mom, like daughter, I guess. I can't judge her for it- but at least I know how to react and won't blow a wad of cash "helping her chase her dreams." At least, not yet.
And he got them all right!
Ti'anna was so happy for him. And finally wanted to know what all the weird animals were. (Zoboomafoo, anyone? I guess she might actually be ready to sit through that one now!) On a side note, she has decided she wants to learn to dance like a ballerina (Thank you, Angelina Ballerina!). I know her interests last about as long as mine, but are just as intense, so I did the responsible, loving thing- I checked out an instructional video for toddler ballet. We'll see how she does with that. If this lasts any length of time, we might consider classes for her. But her track record proves her capriciousness, and I'd be surprised to see this fascination last longer than a week, despite my encouragement and support. Like mom, like daughter, I guess. I can't judge her for it- but at least I know how to react and won't blow a wad of cash "helping her chase her dreams." At least, not yet.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
more ethan-ese
Ethan is now naming three shapes (triangle [twyy'-yuh-yuh], square [quee'yuh], and circle [syuh-cuh]) on his own, no prompting. He held up his slice of quesadilla the other day and said "triangle" clear as day! He recognizes stylized shapes, also, not only simplified ones. For instance, he pointed to a line drawing of a Starburst candy that was drawn in perspective, sort of looking at it from the side, and the literal 'shape' of it was a diamond with some odd flanges. He labeled it correctly as a square. He recognizes several capital letters and knows their names. And my newest favorite? "No Thank You!" This is also accompanied by the emphatic finger thrust. My best friend Julia is always trying to get him to be more polite, and whenever he does a wicked thing, she says softly but firmly, "No thank you, Ethan." So the other day when I took a large rock from him that he was about to hurl into harm's way, he looked up at me and pointed, and said petulantly, "No duck-dya!!" I about died.
The excited incomprehensible babbling has increased exponentially as he is trying new ways to communicate verbally every day. He's not great at it, but he's finally decided that it's important to him to learn our language. What more could a mommy ask? *joy*
We have a new little ritual where he barges into the bathroom when I'm in there in the morning, and wields a magazine at me (usually a Martha Stewart Living, but Wired and Linux Journal are also popular lately). I am required to pore over the pages with him looking for interesting images or letters or numbers, and name them. If it is an animal of any kind, the name is unimportant and the sound it makes is required instead. If I can name a thing, he is game and will do his best to say it. However, this rule only extends so far as this magical time lasts each morning. The rest of the day he acts shy if I introduce a new word to him and ask him to repeat it. But during this moment we share over a glossy periodical, he feels free to venture out and sample the feeling of as many new words as I want to throw at him on his tiny tongue. One thing's for certain- he's bound to have a phenomenal sense for graphic design, cutting his teeth like this on some of the best print advertising in the mainstream industry... *grin* He already is more interested in imagery than the actual language. The season for language-based graphic design is drawing to a close (does anybody read the fine print anymore? I mean, any consumers?), and people who can communicate viscerally with image, sound, and color are the immediate future of the media industries. Ethan's not weird. He's just well-adjusted to his environment. What's another word for that? Evolved. *laugh*
The excited incomprehensible babbling has increased exponentially as he is trying new ways to communicate verbally every day. He's not great at it, but he's finally decided that it's important to him to learn our language. What more could a mommy ask? *joy*
We have a new little ritual where he barges into the bathroom when I'm in there in the morning, and wields a magazine at me (usually a Martha Stewart Living, but Wired and Linux Journal are also popular lately). I am required to pore over the pages with him looking for interesting images or letters or numbers, and name them. If it is an animal of any kind, the name is unimportant and the sound it makes is required instead. If I can name a thing, he is game and will do his best to say it. However, this rule only extends so far as this magical time lasts each morning. The rest of the day he acts shy if I introduce a new word to him and ask him to repeat it. But during this moment we share over a glossy periodical, he feels free to venture out and sample the feeling of as many new words as I want to throw at him on his tiny tongue. One thing's for certain- he's bound to have a phenomenal sense for graphic design, cutting his teeth like this on some of the best print advertising in the mainstream industry... *grin* He already is more interested in imagery than the actual language. The season for language-based graphic design is drawing to a close (does anybody read the fine print anymore? I mean, any consumers?), and people who can communicate viscerally with image, sound, and color are the immediate future of the media industries. Ethan's not weird. He's just well-adjusted to his environment. What's another word for that? Evolved. *laugh*
Thursday, June 09, 2005
a new friend.
Ti'anna has a new friend. It came with one of her little plastic pony toys, and is a sparkly, iridescent purple butterfly-shaped hair clip, that does not EVER clip hair. (We can't have that, now can we.) It flutters all around the house, humming lilting tunes, being rescued by Ti'anna from broken legs and damaged wings inflicted by evil-underlord Ethan, and is named?
Arthur.
But, she assures me, Arthur is not a boy.
Oh, to be young again, free from all this horrible, society-inflicted bias about gender and what's acceptable and proper, and to be able to choose what you like, with no worries about "what people might think." To wear a pink shirt 'cuz its bright and playful and that's how you feel today, even if you're a man. To name your daughter "Edward" because its the name of your favorite character in your favorite book. To dance like no one's looking when everyone is. *sigh* Its so liberating hanging out with toddlers. *grin*
Arthur.
But, she assures me, Arthur is not a boy.
Oh, to be young again, free from all this horrible, society-inflicted bias about gender and what's acceptable and proper, and to be able to choose what you like, with no worries about "what people might think." To wear a pink shirt 'cuz its bright and playful and that's how you feel today, even if you're a man. To name your daughter "Edward" because its the name of your favorite character in your favorite book. To dance like no one's looking when everyone is. *sigh* Its so liberating hanging out with toddlers. *grin*
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Autism & Geekhood
Some interesting articles, recently slashdotted, on the connection between autism spectrum disorders and general "geekiness." My suspicions are getting stronger concerning genetic links. Tim, Ethan, Judah (Tim's younger brother), Jim's little boy (Tim's paternal cousin), and more, just on Daddy's side of the family. I'm sure we could unearth further links on my side as well... bears looking into anyhow. Without further ado, for those who are interested anyway; here's the Slashdot article and discussion and the Wired article that also contains more data/references that support my computer nerd theory of autism-in-general. *grin* Those who have had to endure my soapboxing on this will know why this makes me smirk to reference.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
ti'anna
just wanted to straighten something out real quick...
in response to some concerns voiced in the comments recently, ti'anna is far from ignored. she is extremely intelligent, and a lot is expected of her, but the only worry i have for her is that she will end up quite spoiled. i, to my shame, let her get away with so much out of guilt because her brother can do the same thing (and we say its unwittingly) and not be punished for a thing she would get reamed for because she absolutely no question knows better. with ethan we just aren't sure...
i quite honestly prefer spending time with her. she is a great conversationalist, very imaginative, and actually interacts with me. i have to do my best every day not to just ignore ethan because he is so extremely high-maintanence and because my selfishness often balks at giving SO much and receiving SO little in return. the most i will get from him is a flash of adorable smile, maybe a kiss (finally, after nearly three years of waiting for a kiss, i can in fact get one from him- but he still won't call me mom, or even call me anything at all.).
most days i feel like i'm in love with a movie star, whom i worship from a distance, memorize every breathtakingly beautiful line of their face and every line of the scripts that they enact, but know absolutely nothing about WHO they really are.
i am so enthralled when he actually makes a bit of progress, i feel like i'm discovering/uncovering a real person under all the destructive, frustrated, deafening behavior, that i have to write it down just to remind myself that progress IS in fact happening, so i can go back when i'm losing all patience with him, as well as my sanity, and see in black and white that i ABSOLUTELY LOVE HIM. even when i feel like i can't stand another minute, like i just want to run away and cover my head up and scream... which more often than i like to admit, is exactly how i feel.
the worst i ever get with ti'anna is short-tempered, when she regresses in order to get more attention. when she whines and acts like she can't put her clothes on (because i still have to dress ethan) or like she can't use her spoon (he still can't feed himself with silverware at all, at three) or that she can't wipe herself (because i'm still changing diapers all day, with no real end in sight). sometimes when i have to close off mentally for a while and let my mind run so i can get out of the moment, and the pressure of having no money, no time, and no more patience, she will ask me the same questions that have no answers over and over until i snap out of it, and snap at her. but i always pick her up and hold her at those moments, because i know she's just imitating me. i will ask her nonsense questions when she is sad to make her laugh and pull her out of her mood, out of herself.
ti'anna, i can relate with. she reminds me so much of myself most days... it makes me cry just to type this. it's ethan i need to learn to be vulnerable with, that i need to learn to love in the way he needs it from me. i know what ti'anna needs, even though i often fail to give it to her. i often fail to do what's right, in many ways, as is the human condition. but with ethan, i don't even know how to get close, so i facsinate myself with him, and love him in the only way he will let me- by trying to help him overcome the huge gulf between himself and the rest of the world. meanwhile, just not lashing out at him is a huge victory...
for instance: ti'anna has never really responded much to cuddling and affection. ethan will ONLY respond to that. sometimes in a moment of sibling jealously, she thinks that being physically affectionate will make her happy, so i endulge her, welcoming her into my arms and lavishing on her all the hugs and kisses i always have inside me for her that she rarely holds still for, but after only a moment she grows restless and wants to get back to her endless pretending.
just like me.
i have heard it said that its painful to realize that your child is like you, as a parent. and in a way, i guess it is. but for me, it is far harder to realize that my son is not like me, to be faced with the possibility of never really understanding him, knowing him, inside. so i do my darndest to fall in love with him all over again every day.
as pointed out to us so adeptly by Jesus when he told us to love our neighbor as ourselves, it is a given that we will love ourselves. of course we do. we know ourselves, and even when we are angry or broken, we always strive to meet our own needs in some way. we let ourselves off the hook for things we would judge others for mercilessly, because we "understand" our own motives, justify ourselves. its our neighbors, who we don't really understand, who are different from us, that are really difficult to love. but I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. and ethan has been a greater bundle of Love, real love, from God, than I could have imagined possible. never have lessons of patience, humility, peseverance, selflessness, self-control, kindness, gentleness, joy in the little things, been packaged in such a precious box and delivered so effortlessly to me. its very easy to love that kid, despite his shenanigans. and the medicine that comes from his spoon is much easier to swallow! and just what i needed, in so many ways...
so for those that voiced concern, thank you, and i appreciate it. but i felt i needed to offer some more information and clarify things a bit. if ti'anna grows up feeling left out, it will be because she has a superiority complex.
just like her mom.
*smile*
in response to some concerns voiced in the comments recently, ti'anna is far from ignored. she is extremely intelligent, and a lot is expected of her, but the only worry i have for her is that she will end up quite spoiled. i, to my shame, let her get away with so much out of guilt because her brother can do the same thing (and we say its unwittingly) and not be punished for a thing she would get reamed for because she absolutely no question knows better. with ethan we just aren't sure...
i quite honestly prefer spending time with her. she is a great conversationalist, very imaginative, and actually interacts with me. i have to do my best every day not to just ignore ethan because he is so extremely high-maintanence and because my selfishness often balks at giving SO much and receiving SO little in return. the most i will get from him is a flash of adorable smile, maybe a kiss (finally, after nearly three years of waiting for a kiss, i can in fact get one from him- but he still won't call me mom, or even call me anything at all.).
most days i feel like i'm in love with a movie star, whom i worship from a distance, memorize every breathtakingly beautiful line of their face and every line of the scripts that they enact, but know absolutely nothing about WHO they really are.
i am so enthralled when he actually makes a bit of progress, i feel like i'm discovering/uncovering a real person under all the destructive, frustrated, deafening behavior, that i have to write it down just to remind myself that progress IS in fact happening, so i can go back when i'm losing all patience with him, as well as my sanity, and see in black and white that i ABSOLUTELY LOVE HIM. even when i feel like i can't stand another minute, like i just want to run away and cover my head up and scream... which more often than i like to admit, is exactly how i feel.
the worst i ever get with ti'anna is short-tempered, when she regresses in order to get more attention. when she whines and acts like she can't put her clothes on (because i still have to dress ethan) or like she can't use her spoon (he still can't feed himself with silverware at all, at three) or that she can't wipe herself (because i'm still changing diapers all day, with no real end in sight). sometimes when i have to close off mentally for a while and let my mind run so i can get out of the moment, and the pressure of having no money, no time, and no more patience, she will ask me the same questions that have no answers over and over until i snap out of it, and snap at her. but i always pick her up and hold her at those moments, because i know she's just imitating me. i will ask her nonsense questions when she is sad to make her laugh and pull her out of her mood, out of herself.
ti'anna, i can relate with. she reminds me so much of myself most days... it makes me cry just to type this. it's ethan i need to learn to be vulnerable with, that i need to learn to love in the way he needs it from me. i know what ti'anna needs, even though i often fail to give it to her. i often fail to do what's right, in many ways, as is the human condition. but with ethan, i don't even know how to get close, so i facsinate myself with him, and love him in the only way he will let me- by trying to help him overcome the huge gulf between himself and the rest of the world. meanwhile, just not lashing out at him is a huge victory...
for instance: ti'anna has never really responded much to cuddling and affection. ethan will ONLY respond to that. sometimes in a moment of sibling jealously, she thinks that being physically affectionate will make her happy, so i endulge her, welcoming her into my arms and lavishing on her all the hugs and kisses i always have inside me for her that she rarely holds still for, but after only a moment she grows restless and wants to get back to her endless pretending.
just like me.
i have heard it said that its painful to realize that your child is like you, as a parent. and in a way, i guess it is. but for me, it is far harder to realize that my son is not like me, to be faced with the possibility of never really understanding him, knowing him, inside. so i do my darndest to fall in love with him all over again every day.
as pointed out to us so adeptly by Jesus when he told us to love our neighbor as ourselves, it is a given that we will love ourselves. of course we do. we know ourselves, and even when we are angry or broken, we always strive to meet our own needs in some way. we let ourselves off the hook for things we would judge others for mercilessly, because we "understand" our own motives, justify ourselves. its our neighbors, who we don't really understand, who are different from us, that are really difficult to love. but I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. and ethan has been a greater bundle of Love, real love, from God, than I could have imagined possible. never have lessons of patience, humility, peseverance, selflessness, self-control, kindness, gentleness, joy in the little things, been packaged in such a precious box and delivered so effortlessly to me. its very easy to love that kid, despite his shenanigans. and the medicine that comes from his spoon is much easier to swallow! and just what i needed, in so many ways...
so for those that voiced concern, thank you, and i appreciate it. but i felt i needed to offer some more information and clarify things a bit. if ti'anna grows up feeling left out, it will be because she has a superiority complex.
just like her mom.
*smile*
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
now repeat after me.
and ethan does. he WILL NOT, and i repeat, WILL NOT acknowledge you if you ask him where his toes are. or if you ask him to bite anything at all? no response. but if you ask him, even once, to bite his toes, he will immediately drop whatever he is doing and attempt it enthusiastically, even if he is standing or if he has to remove his shoes to do so.
*blink*
i don't get it.
also, echolalia. he doesn't seem to grasp proper call-and-answer protocol in conversation. he knows what i'll say in a given situation, and that's what he'll say. no matter how silly that seems, its what he does. for instance, when he wants me to hand him something, he says "thank you." because when i hand him something, i tell him to say "thank you" afterwards. get it? i also tell him to say "please," or "have that" or any number of things, but "thank you" is what gets through, and evermore shall be. another example: when he hurts himself, he says, "are you okay?" over and over until one of us says it to him. then he he says "ohhh," in a loving way and strokes his head comfortingly until one of us does that. will he say "ouch?" not unless one of us is hurt. but will he ask us if we are okay? oh no. not a chance. *grin*
*blink*
i don't get it.
also, echolalia. he doesn't seem to grasp proper call-and-answer protocol in conversation. he knows what i'll say in a given situation, and that's what he'll say. no matter how silly that seems, its what he does. for instance, when he wants me to hand him something, he says "thank you." because when i hand him something, i tell him to say "thank you" afterwards. get it? i also tell him to say "please," or "have that" or any number of things, but "thank you" is what gets through, and evermore shall be. another example: when he hurts himself, he says, "are you okay?" over and over until one of us says it to him. then he he says "ohhh," in a loving way and strokes his head comfortingly until one of us does that. will he say "ouch?" not unless one of us is hurt. but will he ask us if we are okay? oh no. not a chance. *grin*
Friday, May 06, 2005
here's a video clip of ethan.
click here
(you will need to have the flash player installed to view this.) it may take a little while to load, but it's worth it. make sure your sound is turned up.
he's saying "whoa" while letting the car seat lid "fall" on him over and over. "whoa" lately has been anything thrilling, such as a sharp turn in the car, a movie with fast camera action designed to cause vertigo in the viewer, or riding a rolling office chair across the wood floor. its pretty plainly illustrated here how unless you spark his interest, he doesn't hear you. also, whenever he pulls his head out long enough to notice one of us has the camera, he runs up to it to observe the little lens inside opening and closing, and makes ham faces to it up close. i was really trying to get him to say "no," but he wasn't in the mood. i tried to irritate him, but to no avail. he was far too busy "whoa"ing...
enjoy!
(you will need to have the flash player installed to view this.) it may take a little while to load, but it's worth it. make sure your sound is turned up.
he's saying "whoa" while letting the car seat lid "fall" on him over and over. "whoa" lately has been anything thrilling, such as a sharp turn in the car, a movie with fast camera action designed to cause vertigo in the viewer, or riding a rolling office chair across the wood floor. its pretty plainly illustrated here how unless you spark his interest, he doesn't hear you. also, whenever he pulls his head out long enough to notice one of us has the camera, he runs up to it to observe the little lens inside opening and closing, and makes ham faces to it up close. i was really trying to get him to say "no," but he wasn't in the mood. i tried to irritate him, but to no avail. he was far too busy "whoa"ing...
enjoy!
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
We've arrived!
Ethan has thoroughly learned a new word, and we are all very proud (?) of him. The word? "NO!!!"
Frequently, loudly, emphatically. Pretty much any time he doesn't agree, doesn't understand, or is simply feeling cantankerous. Which is nearly all day most days! He even accompanies this most times with an impressive stab of his pointer finger at you! But the saving grace is the WAY he shouts it. His tiny voice is forceful, but the infantile curl he places on the vowel makes it all worth while. Anyone who can remember what a nine-month old shouting "no" sounds like has got it on the money. Phonetically, its kinda "nyouh!" I will see if I can get a clip of it today, and add it to this post, so stay tuned.
He's talking a lot more now. He's been launching into these tirades lately where a real word he knows well is couched in an emphatic raft of gibberish. These "sentences" or sometimes even "paragraphs" are extremely expressive in tone and pitch. If you didn't know better, you might mistake him for speaking rapidly in a language you didn't know. But he really is trying to SAY something. His inflection is identical to the other members of the family (you know how the rhythms and tones of a sentence combine to make up patterns that are usually so similar between immediate relatives?). He makes eye contact, and uses his facial expressions to emphasize his point... Its interesting. But as he's looking at you, if he can tell you're not following him, his voice gets quieter and he gets embarrassed and stops.
Some other new words, used correctly and often: Hot, Nose, Duh-Tush ("don't touch," which he repeats after me while doing that same pointer finger jab whenever I say it to him!), Water (said perfectly now, "wah-tur," well enunciated), Eye (Which he is recognizing everywhere now. His stuffed animals have eyes, models in magazines have eyes, the cover of "A Series of Unfortunate Events" has several stylized eyes, a deck of cards has eyes sprinkled through it- he finds them and shows us exitedly!)
In other news, Ti'anna knocked on my office door as I was filing my quarterlies, and as I had told her several times not to disturb me while in the middle of this particular project, I was annoyed. I said, "I said not to bother me, Ti'anna." She said,
"It's not Ti'anna. I have something for you." I opened the door to give her the old "I'm not kidding; scram!" look, and she proffered a small folded piece of paper on which she had scribbled some letters.
"I'm a mail server," she said in all seriousness. (Any other computer geeks out there will see this as proof of what a sheltered and tech-soaked environment this poor kid has grown up in! For those not so inclined, please understand two things: 1. In a rural area like ours, we do not have a proper "postman" or woman or what have you in their special car and special blue shorts with an ubiquitous smile. We have a box out on the street which our mail contractor pulls up to in a stationwagon and swiftly deposits our mail without getting out. Ti'anna knows someone brings the mail, because it appears every day and needs retrieval, but does not associate this with the "mailman" of yore. This brings us to point #2. A mail server, in hugely oversimplified terms, is the part of a network that deals with incoming and outgoing email. This is the machine at your local Internet Service Provider that your computer contacts when it is sending or receiving email. We could get a lot more technical here, but you get the point.)
I had to take a five minute break to recover from the laughter. The funniest thing about it was how it was not at all wrong from a linguistic point of view. One who delivers mail is performing a service, is serving you the mail. I thought it was awesome inductive logic!
Frequently, loudly, emphatically. Pretty much any time he doesn't agree, doesn't understand, or is simply feeling cantankerous. Which is nearly all day most days! He even accompanies this most times with an impressive stab of his pointer finger at you! But the saving grace is the WAY he shouts it. His tiny voice is forceful, but the infantile curl he places on the vowel makes it all worth while. Anyone who can remember what a nine-month old shouting "no" sounds like has got it on the money. Phonetically, its kinda "nyouh!" I will see if I can get a clip of it today, and add it to this post, so stay tuned.
He's talking a lot more now. He's been launching into these tirades lately where a real word he knows well is couched in an emphatic raft of gibberish. These "sentences" or sometimes even "paragraphs" are extremely expressive in tone and pitch. If you didn't know better, you might mistake him for speaking rapidly in a language you didn't know. But he really is trying to SAY something. His inflection is identical to the other members of the family (you know how the rhythms and tones of a sentence combine to make up patterns that are usually so similar between immediate relatives?). He makes eye contact, and uses his facial expressions to emphasize his point... Its interesting. But as he's looking at you, if he can tell you're not following him, his voice gets quieter and he gets embarrassed and stops.
Some other new words, used correctly and often: Hot, Nose, Duh-Tush ("don't touch," which he repeats after me while doing that same pointer finger jab whenever I say it to him!), Water (said perfectly now, "wah-tur," well enunciated), Eye (Which he is recognizing everywhere now. His stuffed animals have eyes, models in magazines have eyes, the cover of "A Series of Unfortunate Events" has several stylized eyes, a deck of cards has eyes sprinkled through it- he finds them and shows us exitedly!)
In other news, Ti'anna knocked on my office door as I was filing my quarterlies, and as I had told her several times not to disturb me while in the middle of this particular project, I was annoyed. I said, "I said not to bother me, Ti'anna." She said,
"It's not Ti'anna. I have something for you." I opened the door to give her the old "I'm not kidding; scram!" look, and she proffered a small folded piece of paper on which she had scribbled some letters.
"I'm a mail server," she said in all seriousness. (Any other computer geeks out there will see this as proof of what a sheltered and tech-soaked environment this poor kid has grown up in! For those not so inclined, please understand two things: 1. In a rural area like ours, we do not have a proper "postman" or woman or what have you in their special car and special blue shorts with an ubiquitous smile. We have a box out on the street which our mail contractor pulls up to in a stationwagon and swiftly deposits our mail without getting out. Ti'anna knows someone brings the mail, because it appears every day and needs retrieval, but does not associate this with the "mailman" of yore. This brings us to point #2. A mail server, in hugely oversimplified terms, is the part of a network that deals with incoming and outgoing email. This is the machine at your local Internet Service Provider that your computer contacts when it is sending or receiving email. We could get a lot more technical here, but you get the point.)
I had to take a five minute break to recover from the laughter. The funniest thing about it was how it was not at all wrong from a linguistic point of view. One who delivers mail is performing a service, is serving you the mail. I thought it was awesome inductive logic!
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