Well, it's been a while, I think I've now pushed the definition of 'Christmas break' to its absolute limits. I hate it when I don't blog for a bit, I start feeling the pressure of making sure it's a good one and then I don't write anything!
The holiday period has been a really lovely time. The Boy coped with the change and upheaval better than he's ever managed before. We spent Christmas Day at his mum's house as we always do, together with his Grandma and Grandad. Unconventional, as so many aspects of our life seem to be, but most importantly it works for him.
Christmas Dinner has traditionally been the main battleground of the day. The heat, the noise, the close proximity of others, the never-ending-ness of it all. But we've done this twelve times now, we've all had time to adapt. Lessons learned and remembered, not least by him. Oven off, hob off, window open, same seats, same food, same, same, same... For years I saw it as pandering, but I've been on a steep learning curve with this one too. Finally there's the realisation that I don't want him just to be able to tolerate events that we all take for granted, I desperately want to help shape memories that he will love and cherish forever.
And so as each cracker was pulled in turn and their contents had been assembled in a pile in front of him (I told you lessons have been learnt... who can forget the great toe-clipper battle of 2010?), we had a competition to see who could tell the best Christmas cracker jokes. I would read the joke first to absolute silence, then he'd read the same joke and the table would roar with laughter. He loved it. I thought it was a rubbish game. By the time the main course arrived the iPad and headphones were out, but being able to eat while watching his grinning face stuff chipolatas down one after the other was just perfect.
And so, to 2014... the final year of life as The Boy before he becomes The Teen. New Year Resolutions abound. I explained them to The Boy, about how we might try really hard to do something different this year. I only hope his own 'revolution' to "not swear as much" proves a bit more successful for the rest of the year than it has so far. Still, it's early days, and on a positive note, in the eye of the storm his creative use of the English language will never cease to amaze me...
As for Dad's dreams for the year ahead, well as always so many of them are for him. That he continues to thrive, grow, laugh, love, and baffle me each and every day. But of far more importance than all that, I truly hope that eventually he will come to like the new Doctor. I hear you son, I know he's old, and I know he will never be Matt Smith, but give it time. Inside he has the same two hearts, never forget that.
Thank you as always for dropping by. On behalf of the two of us, I wish you and your loved ones much luck and happiness for 2014.
This blog is about bringing up The Boy. He's 12 years old and autistic. It's written by The Dad. It's my words, my view. Other people will think differently and have different opinions. Good.