Miss M isn't going to take it anymore! She just told me she's tired of people bragging about watching the Olympics. Meanwhile, she's really excited about starting occupational therapy today.
At age 8 she's going to work on her muscle tone and sensory integration and handwriting, etc, etc, etc. One more little wrinkle in her life of little wrinkles - she's like toes after a long, hot bath. (Or is that image more shriveled than wrinkled? She's not shriveled.)
I don't call it occupational therapy when I talk to her about it. I say we're going to "that play place." Maybe I'm wrong to not be more direct with her, but I want her to think of OT as something cool and fun - not weird and not work. I want her to feel special, but not, you know, special. Perhaps she'll brag to others about what a great time she has.
I imagine tomorrow at school, some little girl with stars in her eyes will talk about the women's long program in figure skating and how beautiful and sparkly and graceful the skaters are. May will look at her and say, "oh, you watched your fancy TV show, did you? Well, I went to this place with padded floors and swings and they brushed me and rolled me around on the floor and it was WAY BETTER than what you did, so quityer braggin you little slut."