The Expected Becomes Unexpected

I feel like I often only have the itch to update our blog when I have something profound, deep, very funny, or sentimental to say. This if course means that I don't update often. I mean we live a normal life, it is not all "ah ha!" moments, epiphanies, and self realizations.

A friend once told me that my blog entries are always lovely and deep and hers are always "I'm grateful for chocolate" Lol. The truth is, we have many days that nothing exciting happens at all. In that I no longer have expectations for how things are supposed to go down. I really no longer look forward to milestones that I can brag about, that leads to disappointment and sadness, and really why do that to our family?

When Asher was born there were a lot of thing I expected to happen, normal things, but markers and milestones that I looked forward to happening because I knew that they would. Teething, crawling, walking, talking? social talking and reciprocity? Those things just didn't happen the way I expected. There are a lot of things I didn't expect as well. Medical problems, sensory issues, speech delays, developmental disorders, Autism.....I didn't expect any of that. But over time as these things appeared in our lives, we started to realize that we began to expect those unexpected things to happen. Our new normal changed from "why us?" to "why not us?" and "it only make sense at this point that one more thing would fall down on us" This reversal in thinking happened slowly, but it is what it is.

But sometimes, there are things that go down that I had at one point expected to happen. These normal things, the expecteds, they are all very unexpected, so when they happen and we are shocked, people look at us and say "well yeah, of course, what did you expect to happen?" I guess I expected anything but the normal, the regular, the "of course!"

The other day my niece Kylee came over to play with Asher. For the most part they still play side by side, but only sometimes with each other. This is expected for me. Kids like Asher with PDD-nos tend to play by themselves, and even though Asher has a bright social spark (His neurologist's words, not mine) and doesn't meet a lot of the social markers for Autism, he is still behind in some of his play skills. This is our expected.

Sometimes I will sit with Kylee and Asher and script the play for them, ask questions, give them language, help them take turns and share. This is something I've become quite good at in all my years of teaching language impaired kids. We often joke that I went to school for language disabilities because God knew the kids in my life would need me to have those skills, not really to be a language teacher. As it stands for now, I can do both.

On this particular day however, I decided I needed time to read while they were playing nicely, quietly, and didn't really need me. I expected them to play by themselves, I expected fights about sharing, I expected Kylee's feelings to get hurt and for Asher to have zero empathy towards her. I expected these things, because again, things that would concern most people have just become normal.

But here is what happened instead. I'll write this up like I would write up a language sample to make it easier to follow.

Asher: I go a party
Kylee: Was it a burfday party?
Asher: Yeah
Kylee: My burfday is Sesame Street Abby party
Asher: I haffa Buzz party
Kylee: You have cupcakes and chips at the party
Asher: haffa buzz cake
Asher: haffa sheriff woody inna aliens
Kylee: Asher you should have cookies and candy with those cupcakes
Asher: yeah candies
Kylee: Can I have some candies?
Kylee: Can I have some alien candies?
Asher: Aliens!
Kylee: Asher you crazy!
Kylee: Auntie Asher is crazy
Asher: yeah I crazy.

Most people would expect a conversation like that with an over 4 year old and a basically three year old. I'm not saying they wouldn't smile and think "omg how cute, I can't believe I heard that! Aww they are getting so big" They'd be impressed sure. But they wouldn't be sitting there crying, thinking "Oh MY GOD! They are Geniuses! The SMARTEST kids alive!" Which is what runs through your head when you never in your faintest imagination and wildest dreams saw a conversation between two language impaired children going down in this manner. I'm sitting here all proud Auntie and so happy I'm crying Mama, over something that should have been completely expected or even if you're one taken to brag like myself, a moment that would have lead to a Facebook "My kids are so cool listen to what they said" comment. But I couldn't move. I just sat there listening and hoping for more, with an insane amount of happiness, but also shock running through me.

And it all circles back to the funny little thing in life called Hope. People often say "wow you're so positive!" Which you know, isn't the most truthful version of how things go down...not at all. I'm learning with the help of others to be more positive to be more hopeful, but I'm not Miss Sunshine. I often feel like "poor Asher" and "poor Phill" have quite a battle ahead in life just having to live with someone as difficult, sensitive, and taken to saddness too often and too easily. But I am trying for them.

I also get comments about hope. Asher's neurologist often says "I don't know how you're doing it, but you're holding onto that hope! Not all parents can and do" This is how it happens, your hope hovers somewhere below the norm, sometimes it is barely a whisper. You wake up and you expect to see a child struggling with skills well below what is developmentally appropriate. And hope is just laying somewhere dormant in the back of your head. This is what you expect, to have what others would consider a worrisome day. And then you get instead what others would completely expect to get waking up to a new day and it is so unexpected. And your hope taps on your shoulder and says "I told you so, now stop moping and go enjoy that little boy"

But you know on the surface, nothing profound, amazing, deep, sentimentally gooey here at all. Just two little kids, playing together, having a fun conversation planning a birthday. Just a simple expected day, or is it?

The student becomes the teacher...

I once read a quote that made me giggle for days. "It is called the terrible twos, because "fucking awful" doesn't start with a T" Even typing it, I giggle. There are many thing I enjoy about Asher being bigger, I like that he chats more, he wants to tell us stories, that he is more independent in some ways and needs us more in other ways. If I could count the amount of times in a day that he needs boo boos kissed, hugs, or snuggles....well I'd be rich if society really placed value on those things. As it stands, I put a lot of value on them. Which is why I love this age. HOWEVER, it comes with challenges.

There is the sharing challenge. The biting challenge. The tantrum when something doesn't play out exactly the way I want it to challenge. The picky eater challenge. The nose picking challenge. The I don't want to wear shoes challenge. The I want to wear shoes and I'm not taking them off so deal with mud and snow on the floor challenge. The I don't want to use the potty challenge. The I want to wear underwear, but not use the potty challenge. The I really want to use the potty but didn't make it so now I'm going to cry for hours challenge. The don't you dare brush my hair or my teeth challenge. The I don't want to take a bath challenge. The I want a bath so bad that I don't care what else we are doing, you will stop and give me one right this instant challenge. The I want to dump out all the drawers, cabinets, and empty all bookshelves of books challenge. The I wonder what this taste like challenge...which may include things like bars of soap, shoes, cat litter, or the toilet bowl brush. The I will not sleep when you want me to challenge. The I will sleep smack dab when you don't want me to challenge. The Auntie's playroom is better than mine so I just won't go into it sit outside and cry for my toy's challenge. The hitting when frustrated challenge. The I want to be naked and I don't care who is over challenge. The pulling the cat's tail challenge. The I wonder what my poop will look like on the wall, in my hair, in the carpet...anywhere really...that challenge.... The list goes on and on. If you have children, I'm sure some of those brought a giggle. If your children are older, you read them and thought "I'm glad we're out of that phase" or you thought "She left out these 500 challenges" Trust me, it is not because we don't have them, it is because my wrists will ache if I list all of them.

So instead I need to talk about the challenges that are unique to Asher and kids like Asher. If being two wasn't difficult enough, being two and Autistic or with Autistic tendencies...well that takes the cake!

While Asher has made tons of progress with language, he still struggles to communicate when he is frustrated. And people will say "all children have tantrums" Thank you, I understand that. I was a nanny, a big sister, I am an aunt, my friends have children, I've worked at a daycare, I've gone to the mall, toy stores, Target....for some reason there are lots of tantrums in target, I am a teacher. I am surrounded by children, I've seen normal tantrums. So feel confident that when I say Asher's tantrums are sometimes very different, that I have considered what a normal tantrum looks like. And these tantrums are epic, not because they are louder...sometimes they are, but often times not. Not because they are violent, because they aren't, not because he is more angry. No, it is because he is sad. Mournful and dissapointed, and almost defeated. He struggles with the concept that mistakes happen even when you try hard, even when you want it more than anything else.

Asher takes his failures like they are marks against him and he will apologize to us for hours. Sometimes I fall asleep at night and hear the echo of "Sorry Mama!" in my head, due mostly to the fact that I had heard it so many times that day, but more importantly, that he was so deeply sad when he said it. And he still doesn't understand that he doesn't have to be sorry that he didn't make it to the potty, or that he slipped on the ice, or that the cat scratched him, he spilled a little water, or that he couldn't think of a word.

He is sensitive to the word "sorry" so trying to teach him when to say sorry has been a "special" experience. When he hits or pushes, he can't bring himself to say sorry. This happened to me when I was little and I think it had a lot to do with pride, but for Asher is has a lot more to do with the sensory over stimulation that lead to the behavior in the first place. So we hug him from behind and take his hand for him and make the sign for "I'm sorry" on his belly, while we make him look at whoever he is trying to say sorry to. He always goes and gives the other person a long extended hug and after a few minutes will say "Sorry Mama...Daddy....Kylee...Ethan...Auntie..." But it has been almost as tough to teach as potty training...almost.

A few days ago I was sitting in the living room and my cat Dr. Seuss, scampered by me and dug his nails into my leg in the process. I immediately yelled "Seuss you suck!" Asher came up beside me, took my arm and made the sign on my belly for "sorry" and said "I sorry...say sorry...sorry Seuss!" Then he put my hand down and said "huggies" So I picked up Seuss, who still sucks by the way, and I hugged him. When I put Seuss down Asher said "say" I tried not to smile, because this is serious business for Asher, it was tough though. I looked at Seuss and said "I'm sorry Seuss, that was a mean thing for me to say" And Asher smiles and then gave me kisses. After kisses he ran away to play with his toys, but stopped at the door and said "Mama?" "A pwod a you" He was proud of me! And that made me tear up a little.

So some of our struggles, they suck. They are sad, frustrating and sometimes they make us cry. Sometimes it doesn't seem like Asher is learning anything from us at all, than nothing is sinking in. But then the light turns on "Ah ha!" and the student becomes the teacher! I'm grateful for the "ah ha" moments Asher gives us, when we realize we have so much to learn from him still, that we will teach him many things about life, but it may just be that he will teach us so much more.

One of these things just doesn't belong

When you first get an Autism Diagnosis, the specialist or neurologist you're working with will interview you. They ask questions about your child's development and grill you about tell tale signs. Fact: 99% of parents of children with Autism can look back and pin point developmental markers in infancy that could point to Autism and that the more they accept the diagnosis the more clear these things become. "Oh! That is why he cried so much!" "Oh right it makes sense now that he didn't want to be held" Fact: I look at the list of markers and I look back. I spend hours and hours combing through pictures of Asher's infancy and early toddlerhood, watching videos of him....and I still cannot pin point any of them.

Asher was a very social infant. He looked at people, connected with them, loved attention, flirted and cooed. He smiled constantly, he giggled a lot. He loved to be held, hugged, cuddled, he was easy to soothe. He only cried when he was sick or in pain. He was interested in things going on around him. He didn't adhere to a rigid schedule. Life didn't revolve around a routine that couldn't be altered without disaster. He was happy. Very happy. In fact we got constant comments, "I've never seen that baby cry!" "He always smiles" "It is weird how happy he is" Whenever we took him out to eat, he would play peekaboo with other customers, flirt with the waitresses....in fact all we ever heard was how social he was, how happy he was, how easy going he was.

I still find find myself looking through the thousands of pictures of my happy baby, looking for signs, things that would have clued us in. According to the neurologist at LADDERS, there had to be some signs. But honestly, just his allergies. Thats it. Yet last night, I found myself once again watching all 30 videos I have from when he was 18 months and younger. I watched them all from start to finish. And I sat there with this huge stupid grin on my face, because my baby...my baby was gorgeous, cute, funny, perfect. And he is still most of those things, but certainly not perfect. I think we all lose that as we get older.

Still I find it sad to watch the videos and look at the pictures. Because through that gorgeous, happy little chubby face, shines all my hope for his future. It is like playing "where's Waldo" except where playing "Where's the Autism?" Somewhere in a wide sea of smiles and giggles is the one picture/video, the one clue that we missed. The one piece of the puzzle that would have shown us what was coming.

Most days I don't think about it at all. I'm glad for Asher's happy infancy. I think having happy early days has programmed him to take a lot of the hard stuff he now has to face in stride. But then a day will come along where you can't help but stare it right in the face. And all you hear in your head is that jingle "one of these things just doesn't belong" and of course its always Asher Ben.

Kylee and Ethan had a birthday party a couple weeks ago. Birthday parties are always fun with Asher. They go one of two ways. The first way is the one we hope for, that Asher is able to stay calm and collected despite sensory issues. The second way, the one that happens more often, is that we have to leave with our kicking screaming child folded neatly under Phill's arms.

This party was different. There were maybe 8 children there. And all were in bright spirits and full of energy. He wanted to play with them, wanted to be part of the group and keep up. He was really trying, even though you could tell his sensory issues had him crawling out of his skin. At one point all the kids were dancing to the Brave Sound track. And there he was, eyes closed, hair disheveled, dancing with the kids and screaming and laughing right along with them. He fit right in, looked just like them apart from the silly cheese expression on his face. I watched from the doorway, loving each moment of it, soaking up the feeling of not worrying for a moment. And then I blinked and he was gone. Like literally gone from the room. I found him in the hallway, his fists bunched by his side, red face, not crying, but unable to speak. He tried to speak, but he couldn't get the words out. This is Asher over stimulated. So I brought him up to Kylee and Ethan's room and asked him if he wanted alone time. He was able to shake his head yes. So I left him in there for a little while by himself.

About 20 minutes later all the kids were screetching and laughing in the other room and I thought to myself "Damn Asher is missing a good time" and then my brother in law taps me on the shoulder and says "You should go see this" So I poke my head into the living room. I don't see him at first. At first I see the couch packed with all the kids sitting with their legs sticking out, they are watching Brave and are all kicking their legs and waving their arms...having a blast. And my eyes scan to the end of the couch and there is my little guy. Looking like everyone else, apart from the fact that he had no clothes on except his diaper. "one of these things just doesn't belong" So I turn to my husband and joke "I wonder which one of those kids has Autism" and we smile to ourselves and have a private giggle. Because as sad as it is to always have the odd one out, we both know that we have a smart child. He wanted to play with the kids, he wanted to dance and sing, and screetch and laugh. But something had to give for his sensory to allow him to participate, for Asher, it was his clothes. So we let him finish out the party in his diaper. It was nice to be able to do that, since we were at my sister's house. We know that it won't always be okay and that at other parties, we'd have to leave. But on this day, he figured out what he needed to do so he could belong. What a smart boy.

Whats Hope Got to do with it?

I often think back to the morning I first got Asher's diagnosis. I think about the way I reacted and wonder if I knew then what I know now, if I could have escaped the weeks and months of bouncing frantically between sadness, despair, and denial. I'm not sure. What I keep coming back to is hope. Hope is a very funny thing. When I first heard the diagnosis, it was like all my hope flew away with one small sentence. That everything I wanted for Asher flew out of our lives. A dark cloud on what had once been a sunny day. I felt guilty for a long time that my hope was fleeting. I felt like a failure as a mom that I wanted more for my child that maybe he could achieve. Why couldn't he just be good enough as he was? Tonight I wrote a 30 days of thankfulness post on Facebook about Happiness. If you're on my FB then you can read it there. If not, the gist was that we gave our son the name Asher because it meant "Happy and Blessed" that Happiness is what we most hoped our son would have. I thought about this a lot after his diagnosis. If it was true that I wanted happiness for him, wanted it more than anything else....then why is it my hope had vanished just by hearing the words Autism Spectrum Disorder? I struggled with this a lot. I tossed a lot of theories around in my head, it almost always came back to me blaming myself, that it was really my happiness I was worried about, that my pride was getting in the way, that it was my idea of what my life with Asher should have been that got smashed and I was confusing it with hope. But then one night I was reading a blog that was written by someone I actually don't like very much at all. Its funny how that works out sometimes. But anyway, this person is another special needs parent who is newer to the special need parenting thing than I am. Anyway, she talked a lot about the hope she had for her child, the things she hoped her child would be able to do, but that in the end it really came down to the fact that she hoped someday her little girl would get married. And it hit me, I had to stop reading, I had to cry. That was it. For me Happiness looks like a loving family, something you create with another person, a companion, someone you can laugh and cry with, have babies with, share your dreams with, grow old with. When I heard the word "Autism" I stopped being able to see that type of companionship for Asher. After all, not very many little girls wish they'll grow up and fall in love with an Autistic man, a man who will have social and emotional deficits, a man who may not be able to bring the emotional depth to a relationship that she needs him to have. And of course I looked in the mirror and I was disgusted. Holly Cole, be honest, you snob, you could not see yourself marrying an Autistic man. And I shook my head, I bowed it, I was ashamed. There was so much at that point that I did not understand about Autism, about Asher, about my husband, about my own self. So many answers that I knew I needed to uncover if I wanted to refind my hope for my son. I look at my little boy, with all the hell he goes through, all his struggles, but he giggles, he smiles, he hugs and loves, and is happy. His childhood is happy. And that has to be okay for now. I don't know if he'll be a happy man, I will do my best to teach him how to hold onto happiness. I don't know if he'll be successful, though I will try to teach him to be satisfied. I don't know if Asher will grow up and get married or have a best friend, but I will try to instill in him a drive to keep going after the things he wants in life. That way if he wants to love and connect to someone, that he'll give it every last bit of effort he has, and maybe some lucky girl, will be better than I am, able to see beauty and worth when it is right in front of her, maybe she'll grab him up. Maybe he'll make her a better person and she'll make him a better person. Maybe. Or maybe he won't need those things at all to be happy. Maybe he won't. And for right now my hope can hold hands with "Maybe" I think I can live with that. After all, hope is a funny thing. It has a way of creeping back into your heart, even when you're pretty sure it has gone away. Poof! There is is sneaking back up on you!

The most "portint" things in life.....

If you've never seen the movie The Help and plan on it, then you shouldn't read this post. You've been fairly warned. Asher was really playing well with his trains the other day, so I decided to indulge in some non child related TV. The Help just happened to be on and I was like "What the heck?" So if you've seen it, you know there are several parts in the movie where Millie, the "Help" leans down and tells the young girl she cares for, "You is special, you is smart, you is important" I thought this was really sweet. The third time it showed her doing this, Asher put his train down and said "Baby portint, right Mama?" Shocked. I know he didn't know what it meant. But he knew it was something good. And honestly, I tell him at least 500 times a day how much I love him, but I've never told him he was important. So I blabbered over myself saying "Asher of course you're important!" Anyway, I got to thinking about how important it is to build children up and how easy it would be to give them self esteem just by being conscious of the way we speak to them. So for the past three days since I saw the movie I've been telling Asher "You are special, you are important, you are smart, and I love you" And he loves hearing it! He has been coming up to me and saying "Mama, tell portint" so I'll repeat "You are special, you are important, you are smart, and I love you" Sure Sure, I stole it from a movie, but I'm not ashamed to admit it. It makes him happy. And someday he'll understand what it all means and maybe he'll remember me saying it over and over again and he'll believe it.

A Tale of Two Babies

I didn't meet my friend Michelle in the conventional way, we didn't go to school together, we weren't introduced by a mutual friend, we didn't play on a sports team together, none of those things. Michelle and I met on a pregnancy forum. There were thousands of girls on this forum, but Michelle, like a few others stood out. Why? Because Michelle and I were two of a small group of first time mothers to be, who were on bedrest with complicated pregnancies, this allowed us to stay up and chat about our fears until the early hours just before dawn. Michelle and I had a lot in common...including pregnancy complications, both were at risk for preterm birth, both had growth restricted babies, problems with blood pressure, on and off bedrest. I'm sure in the course of history people have bonded over odder things. But the similarities didn't end there. Despite having due dates weeks apart, we delivered our babies on the same day, within hours of each other. On April 16th, 2010 Olivia Greener and Asher Cole were born, small, perfect babies, who for the most part seemed healthy despite their beginnings in the womb. Within weeks of being born, it became clear that Asher was a very sick baby boy. By 11 weeks old he was hospitalized for his first major allergic emergency. This hospitalization lead to two very difficult diagnoses. I worried about him all the time, but despite having a sick baby girl of her own, Michelle would stay up late and talk me down. Within a couple months of being born, it became clear that Livy was also a very sick baby. She was tiny for her age, could barely eat anything without being sick, Michelle was forced to strip her own diet down to little more than rice and water to make sure that her baby could safely nurse. So we stayed up nights, chatting about medical food, allergies, projectile vomit, bloody diapers, rashes, breathing issues, babies in pain. Two babies born on the same day, with shockingly similar serious and rare medical problems, one with a diagnosis, one without. As time moved on and the babies traveled toward one years old, physically Asher thrived. Medical food allowed him to become healthy and strong. Meanwhile Livy Love was still a medical mystery. We would share pictures, ones of a giant boy, and ones of a tiny baby girl, who had a full head of hair and was walking. Livy had failure to thrive. As I rejoiced in our health care options and availability of medical food, Michelle and her husband fell into despair. Livy was so small she didn't even make the growth curve. At a year old, she barely fit in 6 month clothing. And still Michelle and I stayed up late at night, worrying about things like "How will we ever make them a birthday cake they can eat for their first birthdays?" One mom wondering if she was watching her baby die, and the other one worried that if she sent her precious boy to daycare, he'd die, it would only take a small mistake. But Asher continued to grow and Livy didn't. She became sicker and sicker. Michelle was worried, I was pretty worried too. How would anyone be able to pick up and move on if Livy didn't make it? I would look at Asher and think "its not right, they've always been the pair" I think of Livy and I think of Asher. Please God, take care of Livy. We what did we do? We shared medical food, calorie adders, recipes. Asher's doctors gave me extra formula and we split the orders, one half stayed in Massachusetts, the other half went almost to the other side of the country. Why? Because I'd had enough. This is what it came down to. One child very healthy despite having a rare and serious medical condition and the other child was dying before our eyes. Why? Because Asher was lucky enough to live in a state that mandated the insurance coverage of medical food for children and Livy was not. Whats the big deal? Couldn't they just buy it? Sure, if they wanted to be homeless, because medical food costs more a month than most people spend on their mortgage and other bills. So Livy did okay for a while, she didn't catch up, but she wasn't losing. It was okay, small steps, and boy that little girl was smart as a whip. Asher had his ups and downs. We would be told if his EE got worse or his weight dropped below a certain percentile he would get a feeding tube....we did not want it. We were readily given services to help Asher, had doctors who investigated further, fought for Asher and took his condition seriously. Michelle was lucky if she could find a doctor that even looked twice at her daughter. She traveled with her little girl, searching for a specialist that would help. And I watched from the other side of the computer and prayed for this little girl, born on the same day as Asher, to a very good friend. One very lucky toddler and one we were watching die. And then poof, one day a specialist listened, Livy was hospitalized immediately and scheduled for the placement of a Gtube, which would allow her to bypass impaired parts of her digestive track and get sorely needed nutrients. All this with no time to spare, because Livy was that sick. Thank you God for listening. Over the next few months, she gained weight, started to look like a toddler, not a talking, walking, smart as hell infant. And there was hope. Meanwhile Asher had his ups and downs and struggled in other ways. So we stayed up late and we chatted about how unfair life could be, how much crap could fall on some people and others lived with "first world problems" that would have been a blessing for either one of us. When things went wrong, we knew where to find each other. I'm still praying for Livy and I know Michelle is praying for Asher. He has his ups and downs, and Livy has hers, although her downs are deeper and scarier, two babies born on the same day, struggling to survive. Very recently Livy has started to fall behind again. She is in pain, unable to sleep well, not growing as well, and has started to have episodes that look like seizures. Looking at the symptoms, specialists have started questioning a disease that very few people know about called Mitocondria Disease. So we pray, because as much as it sucked to get Asher's diagnosis, we knew that if we were careful we could manage it. There are many types of Mito disease, and some of them are terminal. So we continue to pray for Livy, who should have been tested over 18 months ago when she was so sick we weren't sure she'd make it another week or two, like Asher was tested the first time he was hospitalized. We pray for a family who loves their little girl, for a friend, for a beautiful little girl, born on the same day as Asher, sharing the bond of childhood illness, knowing that while I trust that God loves us, I sometimes question the hand he has dealt us. But then I stop and think. Born on the same day, and I know God has brought us together for a reason <3

Com'on Mama, Follow Me......

"com'on Mama, fowwow me..." Of course Asher, I'll follow you.... "Mama, a roar, a yion, a baby Asha, now" Of course I'll pretend to be a lion with my baby Asher, we'll crawl on the floor and roar, right now, I'll stop typing on the laptop and I'll join you. "mama, a yion, a baby a mama, a yion, a roar" Yes Asher, I'm the baby lion's mama, okay I'll roar with you. "mama?" Yes baby? "Mama a yov a baby, a asha, a yion, right mama?" Yes, baby, Mama loves her baby Asher, her baby Asher Lion, thats right...always. So we crawl all over the apartment, I'm sure the people downstairs hate us, but we crawl and we roar and we pretend to purr while rubbing our cheeks together and doing nose kisses. He is smart, he knows Lions purr, Lions do face kisses, Mama Lions love their cubs. We crawl we crawl, for over an hour, my knees really hurt, but we don't stop crawling, honestly, when will he chat this much again?...it could be days, and I want to watch him be a normal kid for a while even if some of it gets lost in translation. We crawl. Eventually we crawl into his room, he stops at his closet and says "oh no! Mama Stop!" Whats the matter sweetness? "a baby a asha, geared" Why is baby Asher scared? "oh no, a monstah, a get" Baby there is no monster coming to get you! "monstah inna inna dark" Baby there is no monster in the dark closet. (Tears) Okay baby lets scare that monster, come on baby lion, follow me, roar, lets scare that monster. So we look at the closet, we roar. The mama Lion's roar is fierce, the baby lion roars with tears on his face. We roar until he laughs and says "Okay mama, fowwow me" he brings me to the tv and says "Haf a duder show a rocket?" Yes baby you can watch Super Why or Little Einstines. Later that night Phill and I are in bed. It took hours to get Asher to sleep. He doesn't sleep well ever. And we hear him cry. We try not to react right away, we pray he puts himself back to sleep, and we wait, barely breathing. Fingers and toes crossed. And then, we hear it, a tiny roar, then a louder roar, then a fierce roar. And then nothing. A few minutes later, I check on him...fast asleep with a sweet smile on his face. Go away scary Monster or Baby Asher Lion will scare you away! And he did!