Happy Times

Slurping Life
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Yes! Another year older.

So they should have been like this from a “book” called “Hello Cupcake” by Karen Tack and Alan Richardson. It was a Mother’s Day gift from my daughter, to make my life easier.

Unfortunately they ended up like this!

I’ll tell you one thing for free, American cake frosting is ten million times more difficult than fondant. I now need to go on a crash course to identify different American candies. It has taken forever just to work out what a doughnut hole might be. It’s a fabulous book.

And please spare a thought and maybe a penny or two for “Judith” and her “Birthday wish.” On another note, if you’re into recycling but with an eye on the world, please check out “Green Eyes In Africa” a quite inspiring effort. We looked through our own tatty collection of shoes, both adult and children’s. So many of them were way past hope, too awful to donate to anyone, however I chatted with my “daughter” who lived for some while in Mozambique. She explained to her poor half witted mother that anything is acceptable as they can be refashioned and rehashed by those who are motivated. The non-profit is based in “Utah” but you can contact them to find your local chapter. Lastly and definitely leastly, maybe you could take a wee mo to say something “encouraging” to a little “chap” I know? Once summer gets going and we are free of school we hope to keep track of his creative “endeavours” as we know how to exploit techy types!

Cheers dears


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Quick Quotes

Nonna, the Italian diabetic in Buca di Beppo:-
“Wot? I thought it woz an Italian restaurant? No Neopolitan ice-cream?”

Son to Nonna:-
“I thought Buca di Beppo meant ‘Beppo’s mouth?”
“No……..not mouth……hole……..hole as in ‘place’ of Guiseppe.”
“Yur both wrong,” announces the pre-teen with much eye rolling, “it means ‘Joe’s Basement,’ coz Joe is American for Guiseppe.”
“So what’s Italian for basement dear?”
“I wuz sayin basement to be polite, it jus means ‘hang out.’”

Adult Daughter to Mother and the timely echolalic:-
“I just don’t get it. What’s the point of having medical insurance if they’re only going to pay out if there’s an R in the month and a full moon.?”
“6 months late, if you’re lucky, minus huge deductible, ignoring all out of pocket expenses, just to be generous, say….. 65% tops?”

“It’s wicked man, it’s wicked man, it’s wicked man.”

Siblings:-
“Eeeow! Why are yah makin those weirdo squirrely noises huh?”
“Er…..I’m copyin dah weirdo squirrel…..over there……in dah tree……dinya hear him?” [with pointy finger]

Older brother to little brother, as he steps aside to let him go through the door first, “dere you go,……… age before beauty.”

A warning, bellowed helpfully, at Nonna’s swiftly retreating form, as he hurls his body around Thatcher, “don’t run! You’ll turn yourself into prey!”


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Girls’ Birthday Party cakes – Magic Marker Best Shot Monday

Hosted by “Tracy” at “Mother May I,” but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

red BSM Button

A selection of random cakes as it’s too tricky to get them all in the right order.

Now all the fun stuff is over and we’ve graduated to boring old grown up cakes.

Here’s the recipe for the Peppermint Ice frosting underneath:-

Peppermint Buttercream Frosting
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
4-5 cups powdered [Icing] sugar, sifted
1/4 cup milk
1/8 teaspoon all natural peppermint extract

Beat butter until creamy, scrape bowl.
Add 4 cups of sifted powdered, milk, and peppermint extract, beat until combined.

Taste and add more peppermint extract until it tastes strong or weak enough. And yes, you’re quite right, it’s vile, tastes just like toothpaste.


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How Long? Wordless Special Exposure Wednesday

5 Minutes for Special Needs

How long? Wordless Wednesday

How long does it take the average 8 year old to open four birthday presents do you suppose? I suspect that a thoughtful careful interested child may take some while to open and examine each one. I more impulsive child may rip them all open in seconds. I’m sure there are infinite variations on a theme to suit each little individual.

Around here, we set a new record, all over and done with within a half hour. The gifts were less than perfect but that turned out to be o.k. His presents were wrapped in paper which proved a challenge for the tactile defensive digits which are always super sensitive first thing in the morning. With lots of help, kitchen scissors in someone else’s hands, he managed to achieve unwrapped. Not so long back, his brother and sister had to help. He would stand at a safe three foot distance, within view but with ears protected from the outrageous ripping sounds.

I appreciate the credibility gap here. Can it be true that a child would refuse to open a present? Indeed it can and I have proof, since I am prone to exaggeration. Each and every year parcels would arrive from abroad from relatives. Each one had a little customs label to describe the contents:- plastic dinosaur, child’s toy, Thomas the Tank engine. How I loved those labels, they were my salvation. When the telephone calls came to check whether the gift had arrived, whether it was appreciated I was able to lie through my teeth, ‘yes it was perfect, how thoughtful, how delightful, so much fun.’ Meanwhile the package would remain unopened for days, weeks or a month after the event. I would cart those packages all over the house to where he sat, where he ate, on his bed, as a constant reminder and temptation. After a few weeks I would cut open the top so that he could see the wrapped present inside but nothing would induce him to insert a hand into the lion’s jaws. Even the taunt of Thomas, that most beloved, would fail to motivate contact with paper.

Sometimes a change of approach becomes inevitable. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes growth. But surely that’s just one of the many reasons why we celebrate that date, the birthday, the day that something new was born.

If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to“DJ Kirkby” over at “Chez Aspie” and test your brain power.


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No time like the present!

The sense of urgency when your child receives a diagnoses of autism can be overwhelming. It is as if everyone is yelling 'early intervention' at you. As a parent, you are of course willing to do anything and everything possible to help your child but the choice of options is phenomenal as well as expensive.

Lets move to the best school district tomorrow. No make that today, or yesterday come to think of it. Wait a minute the best therapist is in the opposite direction. Can we commute? How often can we commute? Can we afford it? Should we live on a train permanently and save money on rent? Nevermind, the best therapist in the area has a waiting list of over 8 months. Goodee we've avoided living on a train for the next 8 months.

It is at this early stage, that parents most resemble headless chickens. Every free moment is spent on research. Every other moment is spent worrying. It is a frantic time for everyone. Do something! Do something now! Anything! Fix it before it's all too late. Someone will be shutting that window of opportunity and you're going to squish your fingers. [ translation = or something much more dire]

As I look at my son on his eight birthday, I'm not so sure about that window of opportunity, but if there really is a window, it's wide open, and the view has a bit more perspective. Many happy returns of the day. Now pass me that chicken, I have the time to pluck it.

If you’d like a different take from a high brow perspective, you can nip along and visit “Kristina” – must be something in the ether.

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