It's blog time. And I can't think of anything to blog about. Sometimes life just carries on. The Boy continues to do well at his new school. New Teacher is as lovely as ever. The kitchen door continues to be covered each week in more Gold Awards and certificates.
But I can't blog about that continuously. There's nothing more tedious than someone banging on about how well their kids are doing. You don't want to read that anymore than I want to write it. Today I actually thought about taking him for a haircut that he doesn't need so he'd erupt and I could write something here. How shit is that! At the moment he's sitting playing with his Lego and I have the urge to walk over and kick it across the room. Then I'd have a blog.
Come on, performing monkey, dance. Get some words mixed up with hilarious consequences. Swear inappropriately at people. Lose your temper and fly into an inexplicable rage over seemingly trivial matters. And the truth is, he's done all these things. He does them every day. But you can't write a blog about the every day.
Just as I was about to upload this poor excuse for a blog, The Boy has informed me that he knows what a "Gaylord" is.
Sit tight, this might just be a winner...
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.