Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Z loves holding hands with his sister, which works out pretty well because she loves holding his hand as well. Except for when she's trying to run away from all of us.
This week Z started catching a ride to school with a woman the school district found rather than riding the bus. I actually know the woman, in the way that one seems to know everyone kinda sorta in small towns, but I don't know enough about her to predict how well the new arrangement will work. It was really weird putting him in the car of someone I don't know and walking back up the hill to the house. I've been fortunate in that life has allowed me to be very particular about whom I entrust Z to. When I asked the woman if she had any experience with kids on the spectrum she told me that she knew a friend of a friend whose kid had autism, and added that she used to work as an aide for a kid in a wheelchair. I'm not sure if she knows what she has in store for her. When I met her and Z at the end of the day I asked her how everything had went, dreading what her potential response might be. She told me it had gone fine, the school had let Z out promptly at 2:20. It wasn't what I was asking exactly, but it did answer my actual question; if she thought I was asking about whether she had had an easy time with the school, it meant Z did okay. I'm crossing my fingers it works out, because it would be so great to have one less thing to stress about.