This morning I told Emma she had to take a shower and wash her hair.
“Just Emma. Bye-bye Mommy,” Emma said as she ran into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.
“No wait, Em. I’m just going to supervise. You need to rinse all the shampoo out of your hair, otherwise we have to wash it all over again.”
From behind the closed bathroom door I could hear her say, “No Mommy! Emma do it! Emma do it!”
This is great, I thought. She’s at an age where she needs privacy, all developmentally appropriate.
Later Emma joined me in the kitchen where Nic had just appeared, hair wet and sticking straight up in the air, as he too had just washed his hair.
“Nice,” I said.
“Your hair. You might want to run a brush through it, Nic.”
Nic rolled his eyes and sat at the dining room table listening to who knows what on his ipod.
“Here Em. You have to brush your hair.” I handed her the hair brush. “And you’re next Nic.”
Nic either didn’t hear me or pretended not to hear me. Either way there was no response.
“Hey Nic!” I said again in a louder voice.
“Nic. Your hair is sticking up. You need to brush it.”
Nicky! You need to brush it!” Emma parroted.
Nic ignored both of us.
“Nicky!” Emma said loudly.
“Emma! Be quiet!” Nic shouted with irritation.
“YOU HAVE TO BE QUIET!” Emma echoed.
“EMMA!” Nic shouted back.
“Nicky! Stop talking!” Emma yelled.
Nic caught me trying not to smile and said, “What?”
“Why are you smiling?” he demanded.
“Nope. No smiling.”
“Mom! You’re totally smiling. Why are you smiling?” Nic punched me.
“Ow! Nic! You just punched your mother!”
“Nicky!” Emma shot over on her scooter and thrust the hair brush at him.
“Mom she’s torturing me!”
Emma then began to try and brush Nic’s hair.
“Oh my god Mom! She’s torturing me. Make her stop!” he said, as Emma attempted to brush Nic’s snarled hair. “Ouch! She’s hurting me!” Nic said with feigned pain. He held his head between his hands and pretended he was in agony.
“Okay Em. Give Nic the brush. He’ll brush his own hair,” I told her.
“Emma do it,” she insisted.
“No Emma. Seriously. I’ll do it,” Nic said, grabbing the brush from her.
Emma began laughing. “I want to brush Nicky’s hair.”
“No Em. You brush your own hair,” I said.
“Already did brush hair,” Emma said indignantly. “Now it’s Nicky’s turn,” she said before racing off on her scooter.
The diet update – I spoke with Emma’s physician about the diet yesterday. Since Emma did not test intolerant for gluten and because we’ve seen no significant change in over six weeks, we are putting gluten back into her diet. This morning Emma ate Cheerios with rice milk.
“Well that should decrease the anxiety,” Richard commented when he saw the box of cheerios on the counter.
“Do you think she felt a lot of anxiety?”
“I meant yours,” he said.
For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to: www.Emma’s Hope Book.com