Accommodations. A very important word in regard to Charlie's education. A term that tends to be a harbinger of legalese as in 'time to invoke the spirit and the letter of the IDEA and the ADA.'
Such is all-important and necessary in molding a way through the world in which Charlie can not merely function, but thrive.
But accommodating takes far humbler forms: My deciding this semester to work at home an extra weekday. The day is Monday and the decision came in most handy as Charlie went to sleep at 9pm on Sunday, woke at half-past midnight and stayed up for the next 22 hours. Inbetween, we did a couple of walks (one at 6am), made coffee (well, I did), visited the doctor after school for the recurring rash on Charlie's face, rode bikes (Jim and Charlie, that is).
Two nights of deep sleeping followed, necessary from a sleep perspective but portending unsettlement in Charlie. Indeed Tuesday and Wednesday were not as peaceful days at school as the sleepy Monday had been.
There have been barometric circumstances that have brought warmer temperatures and, Wednesday morning, an onslaught of rain that meant, after a 6.30am walk, Charlie needed a complete change of clothes and dry socks (he accommodated; in the past, once he had put on the day's clothes, they could not be removed from his body till the evening).
There has also been a pearly full moon.
There has been the now-inevitable build-up to the long Wednesday afternoon and evening when Jim teaches late.
But as of this week, Jim decided to teach his class straight through without a break in the middle. It meant he could take a train from NYC an hour earlier and so, bingo, he appeared on the train platform at 9.25pm to a smiling Charlie.
Last week, when Jim was not due to appear on the platform till 10.25pm, Charlie was fine till 9.30pm and then at 9.50 his agitation broke loose. One hour less of waiting made all the difference.
It is my thought that Charlie knew this throughout the whole day. As he went out the door to the white car so we could meet Jim, Charlie gave me a little glance and said 'good boy.'