Day 30 - 09:19am, Wednesday 30 January 2019
The temperature has dropped again today. This is confirmed by Surfer Dude, let's call him, who has caved in to the weather to the extent that today he is prepared to wear a hoodie. Still wearing short shorts and with large swathes of bare leg, but this time he's teamed them with a hoodie. I wonder how cold it would have to get for him to acquiesce to a pair of trousers.
It makes me smile as it reminds me of my own Little Master. He too, if given the choice, would be in shorts regardless of the weather. I often wonder if people look at him and think: poor child, could his mother not have given him trousers on a day like today? When the truth is generally that mummy did and he chose to ignore them. And I've long since learned that you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make it drink, particularly if they are autistic. He knows his own mind and body.
I love how the winter divides our street into them and us. Them is the sunny side of the street and by lunchtime, the pavement is black and shiny. Us is the white side of the street, where the frost never lifts because the sun never manages to rise above the line of the houses. You would think it could make more of an effort to be inclusive.
Mr Fox doesn't discriminate. Walking back from Brownies tonight, I spot him fleeing from our garden. He swiftly crosses to the other side of the street and disappears from sight. Little Miss hasn't see him and expresses her disappointment. Mr Fox, as she calls him and all of foxhood, is a regular visitor to Grandma and Grandpa's garden, where he is tame enough (or at least, blase enough) not to be spooked by children peering at him through the conservatory. This fellow is more jumpy. He too knows his own mind.
It makes me smile as it reminds me of my own Little Master. He too, if given the choice, would be in shorts regardless of the weather. I often wonder if people look at him and think: poor child, could his mother not have given him trousers on a day like today? When the truth is generally that mummy did and he chose to ignore them. And I've long since learned that you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make it drink, particularly if they are autistic. He knows his own mind and body.
I love how the winter divides our street into them and us. Them is the sunny side of the street and by lunchtime, the pavement is black and shiny. Us is the white side of the street, where the frost never lifts because the sun never manages to rise above the line of the houses. You would think it could make more of an effort to be inclusive.
Mr Fox doesn't discriminate. Walking back from Brownies tonight, I spot him fleeing from our garden. He swiftly crosses to the other side of the street and disappears from sight. Little Miss hasn't see him and expresses her disappointment. Mr Fox, as she calls him and all of foxhood, is a regular visitor to Grandma and Grandpa's garden, where he is tame enough (or at least, blase enough) not to be spooked by children peering at him through the conservatory. This fellow is more jumpy. He too knows his own mind.
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