I figured you've probably seen enough photos of yellow-jacketed bike-riding Charlie so why not a few Manhattan streetscapes?
Jim and I went into the city yesterday to have lunch (Greek food!) with some friends and had a lovely time. Charlie a mostly good day, 'considering.'
Considering that, eager to get back to school after Friday's early departure from school for a neurologist appointment, he awoke at 4.50am.
As it was close enough to 5am, I got up too and made coffee. Charlie settled (happily, with a smile) into listening to music on his iPad and I decided to finish up some work (a recommendation letter for a student, an email or two). I sang along with a few of the songs (those Disney ones do stick in your head). Charlie also listened to his new musical interest). He turned down a walk and, a little after 6am, tromped up the stairs to his room.
He was back down by 7am and got in the car (with the heat on, and Jim and me supervising), and I got ready and we were off by 7.30am. We were at his school by a bit after 8am and did some 'touring' round the neighborhoods. By 8.35am we pulled up to the front of the bus line at the Big Autism Center and Charlie went in with a pleased smile.
All was good until around 2pm when, fatigue no doubt setting in, Charlie started crying and his teacher was briefly concerned that he wouldn't be able to ride the bus home. But he was able to calm down after 20 minutes and ran off the little yellow bus just before 4pm.
Charlie and I headed out to do some errands. After a few minutes, I heard a cry, then cries, then had to stop the car as neurological storm mode set in upon Charlie. It lasted 40 (long) seconds and I hurriedly texted Jim, who was at the local library. He appeared swiftly, by which time Charlie was calm and smiled to see Jim.
We'd all like to have days, all days, that are 'incident-free.' But that's neither realistic nor, I think, the best goal to strive for. Rather, to Jim and me, it's all about learning to help Charlie through such difficult instances so that they are short, he and everyone are safe, and he experiences as little lag as possible afterwards.
The last point is very much dependent on how we--how those with Charlie---respond. Wwhat happens is not 'ordinary,' but it is important (for us) to respond in a very ordinary sort of way. If we get, ah, upset and hysterical, so does and will he.
Texting is good as it doesn't involve me talking; when Charlie is upset, words, language, the human voice can really irk him. I happened, too, to have some grapes in my bag and after saying 'grapes' in a straightforward way, handed these to Charlie, one by one. Being able to bite on something seems to provide him with the deep pressure he needs when he is as upset as he was. (Yes, mental note: always carry grapes or apples or some such).
We went home and Charlie went straight to his room, iPad beside him (and I am not making this up---he had the photo of me you see in the left column on the screen). (Awwwww.) He fell asleep for a few hours and woke around 9pm. No surprise that he couldn't go back to sleep for a long time.
But, very good how he kept himself busy listening to music (especially these guys again, and the Beatles), sometimes moving around the house, sometimes at rest.
Just the daily scene around here.
And here's some scenes taken while Jim and I were talking around New York earlier in the day.
Jim walking in midtown Manhattan.
On a street corner in lower Manhattan, below Chambers Street.
Two very large nitrogen tanks and (to the right over the crosswalk) a hose threaded through a manhole.
Not sure how speedy it is to get that top car down to street level.
Sighted by Jim: A photo shoot on a fire escape, of a woman clad in an orange 40-ish style swimsuit.
She and the photographer were only outside for a minute or two, then slipped back in.
Jim approaching the site of the WTC.
There it is. The new construction has started.