Well, I have to admit, this past week has been absolutely fascinating, on a number of levels.
Yeah, there was politics. I think I want to vote for Peggy Noonan next time, since she and I basically had the same take: Kerjilions of dollars spent on campaigns, and for what? More of the same, at all federal levels. Alrighty, then.
More fun was that the Young Prince stayed up to watch the returns with us. He took it pretty hard when his candidates lost. It was kind of funny to watch him go through the Elizabeth Kubler Ross stages of dying over it: anger, denial, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Acceptance only came after an hour of cartoons and some ice cream. I think it's probably good he's not in school right now, as he would have had a very hard time of it going back to class and having to deal with any Jubilant Blue fourth-graders. Ah, well. Such is the stuff future senators are made of.
What made it particularly interesting is that -- ta-da -- the drugs seem to be having an effect. He was upset, but not incoherently ragey. (And it was hours past his bedtime, let's not forget to account for that.) He paid attention. And it seemed normal.
Pretty much everything with him has been heightened vigilance, on the part of several parties. Not Your Average Blogger and I have been watching him for nasty side effects. Nothing too crucial: one headache, a couple of stomach aches -- and it's hard to be sure they were drug-induced. On the other hand, he has been more responsive and able to follow several instructions at once, rather than having to do one thing and report back. He has caught himself before blowing up completely on minor issues. I don't know if it's Dumbo's feather or if it's actually medicinal, but whatever it is, I'll take it.
The crowning moment came yesterday. He was doing his math assignment, without complaint, which was amazing enough. He was getting it done reasonably quickly, especially for him. Something happened that distracted him. I watched, waiting to have to tell him that the moment was over and refocus. So I damn near fell off the couch when, completely unbidden and without me even making eye contact, the boy goes, "OK, that was fun. Now back to work." And he did it.
He's also doing remarkably well with his piano lessons. No fighting about practicing, he goes beyond what the teacher wants, he memorizes the pieces quickly. (Granted, they are incredibly easy pieces, even for a beginner, but the fact he will sit there and do it til he gets it makes me giddy with happiness.)
Drugs are good, mmmmkay?
We got the printed report back from the district harridan. I was amused to note that in her report, she made careful note of NYAB's and my many shortcomings, including the line, "Mrs. Blogger snapped, 'I'm not an idiot.' " -- And yet, she omitted the key point that I was, in fact, being treated like a idiot. Go figure.
So tomorrow we have a separate meeting with the School Intervention team to go over this report separate from the rest of the 500 other pieces of special ed paper. That should be an interesting meeting. It's not like our feelings on the matter are a big secret, clearly. At this point all I'm trying to decide is whether I want to find out who District harridan's boss is, so I can go snap at them, too. Heh.
Eh, well. Something will happen. Something always does. For now, this new normal is quite nice.