To the unschooled, the progress that someone (this would be Charlie, who had a good school day on Monday though he was very tired) has made to leave 5 pieces of sushi and a packet of soy sauce is most likely not apparent. Those 'in the know' know that the above 'still life with 5 sushi' is a sign that said boy was able to overcome the OCD urge to finish the whole pack and eat only as much as necessary.
He also showed how far he has come, though in ways that may be troubling to many. Last night we could tell his uneasiness-o-meter was on the rise. He came back from a walk and said 'bedtime,' started listening to one Disney album in particular with songs from Pocahantas and Hunchback of Notre Dame -- songs meant to spark emotion in a certain Disney way that is a bit forced -- and running around maniacally. We could hear his feet pounding on the floorboards above our heads.
Charlie came down and smiled a bit and then hung around the kitchen, still listening to those songs (it's not a good sign to hear the one from Beauty and the Beast in which Gaston wants the head of the Beast) as I did some things in the kitchen. I could tell he wanted a walk but it was dark and images of us running after him streaking off towards cars, trees and lawns were in my mind. Jim and I praised him for doing good, assured him we'd stick together.
Charlie announced he wanted 'bedtime' and went upstairs, soon calling me to type on his iPad (with a different phrase, 'Gingerbread Boy') then said 'Mommy stairs.' I gave him more assurances and a little extra melatonin, went downstairs and we heard the getting-familiar sound of the iPad being hammered on the wall.
There was a great deal of plaster and dust on his bed and Charlie not looking pleased. I took the iPad and placed it on the floor and Jim sat in the chair and talked soothingly and Charlie stayed on his bed (without his led shaking -- that's a sign he's in heavy neurological storm mode). He got through it and got off the bed, saying 'sheet bed' and headed for the bathroom.
The toilet never flushed but I think it's likely there is a thymic issue -- his stomach was just a bit distended -- and this morning, the day after, the air is heavier and the light isn't shining so brightly. Charlie was very glad to lie down on a clean sheet and clean pillows and fell asleep after some more talking with Jim, and the sound of the ocean on his iPad.
He was very groggy getting up this morning but did soon as the schoolbus pulled up.
We've looked into fixing the wall. I have a feeling Charlie will bang out far more of it (preferably with the iPad -- why he's sitll using his old one) and since the whole wall has to be redone, well, it's a mess but things in our universe are far worse. It's just a wall (ok, walls, as there are holes in several walls of this house, which is incredibly sturdy). Messily, imperfectly, it's about progress as perfection.