Susan Senator

I should be working on my book but I can’t right now. I have Town Meeting tonight and dinner to make and everyone’s around, so blogging is the thing. And of course I should probably write about yesterday, but as often happens when things are very big, I just can’t. I have to go sideways into it. Oblique = less threatening

So first I will tell you about this little funny sweet thing Ned found yesterday. It is images from the Disney movie Alice in Wonderland (or Allison Wonderland, as some in my little family say). These images are set to music that is really chopped up bits of dialog and sounds from the movie! Very weird. Gives me the same strange, flinchy feeling as the movie itself.

When Natty watched it, he was mesmerized. Allison is one of his favorite movies, though as I said I think it is too weird and it gives me an icky feeling everytime, a kind of cringing dread mixed with Pepto-Abismol pink saccharine boredom. But Nat watched this little vid and he had the strangest little smile on his face — kind of Cheshire-like.

So, yesterday. The thing that sticks in my head is when we brought Nat in, at the end. We did this because he is 18 and we have not completed the guardianship yet, so I thought we ought to bring him into the process somewhat. So he came in, after a lot of the difficult details of his upcoming education plan were ironed out (goals like improving his ability to perform household tasks; beginning work at a Papa Gino’s (!); conversing about what he has read; use of a debit card and cell phone). I felt so proud of all of the plans we were making. It sounded to me like a very full life, one that would interest, prepare, and delight him.

Nat came in and everyone sighed in happiness, because he is just so sweet and beautiful. He is very well loved there, I am always so impressed and moved by that. He sat down and our liaison summarized the meeting for him, and asked if felt it was okay that Ned and I made the choices for him about his school work for the coming year. He said, “Yes.” We asked a couple more times, to be sure he had processed the question, and then he signed his own IEP! “N-A-T, Nat,” he said. “B-A-T-C-H-E-L-D-E-R, Batchelder.” And it was done. I felt a bit odd, like I had fallen down a rabbit hole myself, but also hugely relieved to have it be over, and so smooth.