Thursday, 7 March 2013
I haven't been very well. Nothing serious.
I am tired. So tired.
I shriek and I yell.
I can hear myself sounding like a fishwife.
The Boy Child's autism has made its presence felt at home. Reports from school are good.
There is no movement re the sale of our house.
There is talk of an offer.
It's a good offer.
I want to able to make an offer on a new house.
I want to be able to find a house to make an offer on.
I am completely out of ideas for blog posts.
I want to come up with something new and that will be of interest to my readers.
But it isn't all doom and gloom.
Tomorrow sees The Boy Child go to school dressed as Fantastic Mr Fox.
New week, we will attend the only performance of the school's play.
It's Fantastic Mr Fox.
The Lower School Spring Concert is looming.
So is end of term.
Deb and Carrie are coming. There will be Sunday lunch.
And as for me, I will carry on. I will kiss The Boy Child goodnight. I will do the evening chores. I will make a pot of tea and watch a spot of TV. I will go to bed. And tomorrow will be another day.
Autism. Such a small word, only six letters long. Autism. Such a big word, powerful enough to fill a parent's heart with dread and fe...