The end of the day.
The end of the day.
It has been quite a day, especially for a Tuesday. My son the picky eater and my daughter, the voracious one, and I went for a walk to return some videos. The three of us settled on a Japanese restaurant that specialized in Sushi. My son love calamari, and had some of the fried variety yesterday. Today he expressed interest in sushi that had a slice of octopus tentacle. Also, for some reason, he wanted the one of salmon roe. I guess he liked the idea of fish eggs. He ate them. And he ate, and ate some more.
Allow me to clarify. His mother sends down explicit feeding instructions with the lad. He’s ten and weighs between 47 and 52 pounds. When he left me last summer, he weighed 57 pounds, and started the summer at about 50. When I say picky, I’m not kidding. He got off the plane a couple days ago looking near panicked that I might not have his favorite du jour, coconut shrimp. I told him the same rules apply that always does. He eats what I make; I’ll make anything, but I narrow the choices down to a few options to make and of those options he’s got to eat what he's picked.
He’s his father’s son. Haywired. He takes the same drugs I do, Wellbutrin, and Depakote. He’s taking twice my dosage, and he’s literally a third of my body mass. His mother decides to choose her battles differently than I. I want him to run, to play to be angry when he feels it, actually I want him to feel whatever he feels, to not be afraid of them, but to be in control of his moods, and not the other way around. Most importantly, there are times when you only have a few choices, and the most important ones are how you react to what’s going on.
Today, I cut out his daily dose of Depakote. This entire trip, he’s had tremors in his hands. This is one dexterous kid, a Legomaniac. Asking him how long it’s gone on, he claims ignorance. His mother never noticed. My current wife alleges that as long as he’s quiet, his household doesn’t notice details like that. I’m not sure. Today we went to the park after picking up my wife, and he chased Wild Geese.
He climbed trees.
Sunday, he had a meltdown trying to climb a tree. he stumbled through Golden Gate park. He also was forced to eat a slice of cheese pizza. I don't remember him hating pizza. I know he prefers pesto over marinara.
After watching the spectacle for an hour or so in the fading light of a spring day, I made a diagnosis. I think I know what the boy needs: sunshine, a place to run and maybe a dog to play with and take care of.
It has been quite a day, especially for a Tuesday. My son the picky eater and my daughter, the voracious one, and I went for a walk to return some videos. The three of us settled on a Japanese restaurant that specialized in Sushi. My son love calamari, and had some of the fried variety yesterday. Today he expressed interest in sushi that had a slice of octopus tentacle. Also, for some reason, he wanted the one of salmon roe. I guess he liked the idea of fish eggs. He ate them. And he ate, and ate some more.
Allow me to clarify. His mother sends down explicit feeding instructions with the lad. He’s ten and weighs between 47 and 52 pounds. When he left me last summer, he weighed 57 pounds, and started the summer at about 50. When I say picky, I’m not kidding. He got off the plane a couple days ago looking near panicked that I might not have his favorite du jour, coconut shrimp. I told him the same rules apply that always does. He eats what I make; I’ll make anything, but I narrow the choices down to a few options to make and of those options he’s got to eat what he's picked.
He’s his father’s son. Haywired. He takes the same drugs I do, Wellbutrin, and Depakote. He’s taking twice my dosage, and he’s literally a third of my body mass. His mother decides to choose her battles differently than I. I want him to run, to play to be angry when he feels it, actually I want him to feel whatever he feels, to not be afraid of them, but to be in control of his moods, and not the other way around. Most importantly, there are times when you only have a few choices, and the most important ones are how you react to what’s going on.
Today, I cut out his daily dose of Depakote. This entire trip, he’s had tremors in his hands. This is one dexterous kid, a Legomaniac. Asking him how long it’s gone on, he claims ignorance. His mother never noticed. My current wife alleges that as long as he’s quiet, his household doesn’t notice details like that. I’m not sure. Today we went to the park after picking up my wife, and he chased Wild Geese.
He climbed trees.
Sunday, he had a meltdown trying to climb a tree. he stumbled through Golden Gate park. He also was forced to eat a slice of cheese pizza. I don't remember him hating pizza. I know he prefers pesto over marinara.
After watching the spectacle for an hour or so in the fading light of a spring day, I made a diagnosis. I think I know what the boy needs: sunshine, a place to run and maybe a dog to play with and take care of.
posted by mediavore at
10:22 PM
1 Comments:
Cheerio to you. Well said.
You now have a real fan. I will partake in my daily dose of Dirkish Delights
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