Weekly report

I have a Gymboree membership for the next few months. I attend a class on Saturdays for kids 16-22 months even though I am 24 months. Each week there's a theme. Lately, it has been "through". I went through the tunnel, etc. I need to work on my sharing skills because I often want to stay in the tunnel and encourage others not to come in. It was better for me to attend this class since younger kids are less coordinated. This makes it's easier for me to play with them. I could perhaps even learn something from observing them. So far, I am the only kid in the class who doesn't walk. I require assistance to participate in climbing, sliding, standing, etc. Nevertheless, I enjoy the class. Especially the singing and bubbles at the end.

The terms of my membership say I can also attend on weekdays for open play. I went on Tuesday and there was no one else there. It was like having a giant physical therapy room all to myself. Looks like we'll be taking it easy on weekdays and not go because I get too tired and didn't sleep well at night. It's almost like my body can't relax even though I'm sleeping. I had muscle spasms and was tired and cranky the next day.

My speech therapist, Amy, complimented me on having a long attention span, speaking more and speaking clearly. She said it was indeed rare seeing a kid my age focus as well and as long as I do. I pick things up quickly too. I must be a genius in the works. She said even in comparison with other physically challenged kids, I am exceptional. (Note to self: remember to include Ms. Amy in future awards speech.) I also said "thank you" for the first and at an appropriate time.

Now that I'm two, my mom gets kicked out of the OT and PT rooms. She is forced to watch from a jail-like double sided mirror. She can see in, but we can't see out. Apparently this is the age when all the parents get kicked out. Kids require one authority figure during session and often seek out their parent for consolation in order to avoid "working". I throw a fit every time I begin even though it doesn't last long.

In PT, it's down to business. There's no more messing around. Ms. Greta put me on the treadmill. As I hang from my parachute harness contraption, My feet, in braces, are placed on the treadmill and away we go. I take a few steps at the beginning and suddenly become fascinated with the movement below me. The feeling of my shoes dragging along the moving tread. I am not walking. I am zoned out. Ms. Greta picks my feet up and makes them move in a stepping motion. This is what I must eventually do myself.