Stimmy McStimmerson

The house is so quiet.

Sure, there are snoring bulldogs who occasionally boof in their sleep.  The exhaust fan is running inthe bathroom - one of our secret tricks to help the little one sleep.  The TV is on with the volume turned low for background.  The creak of my chair, the clacking of my keyboard...

Still, it seems absolutely silent when compared to the rest of the day.

Stimmy McStimmerson the Whirling Dervish visited us again today.  She was not in a particularly bad mood, but - good Lord - can that girl go.  And scale an adult as if he or she was an indoor rock wall and the Dervish was an accomplished climber just returning from a leisurely stroll to the top of Everest and back.  If I had half of her energy, I think it'd kill me.  Maybe I'd like to start with about 3% instead and work my way up from there.

And, boy, can she eat.  The day I figure out the method behind her eating madness will be the day pigs fly.  One day she won't touch a thing, and then the next day she's shoveling things into her pie-hole so quickly I swear I can actually see her getting bigger as I sit back and watch in astonishment.

Running back and forth, bouncing off the couch and then the bedroom door: couch, door, couch, door, couch, door.  Taking breaks from this gross motor stim to indulge her eyes and finer senses, holding handfuls of pinto beans and pom poms millimeters from her eyes and fluttering her fingers to make them fly everywhere.  Then back to the running.  Always with the running.

Pulling on our shirts, yanking, and finally threatening to do actual damage if we don't react that very second. 

Whining.  Pushing that bottom lip out, implying that we've done something hurtful.  I swear, she knows that kills me, and she milks it for all it's worth.

Clinging.  Swinging.  Spinning.  Running.  Stimming.  Eating.  Whining.

Every attempt at redirection was met with noodle legs, sinking to the floor in a puddle of near-meltdown.  So she ran and stimmed and ran and stimmed.
And now...sleeping.  The line between awake and asleep is not always this defined.  On these days I like to take a moment to be thankful for the reminder...and to revel in the comparative silence.