Yup, she's a Hamilton

We've started instituting rewards for doing chores, so Maddie earned "Special Time with Daddy." Last night, we went to the pool. On the way back, Maddie wanted to put on her cotton top over her suit but only Lauren's was in the pool bag.

I put it on Maddie and said, "Here, you can pretend to be Lauren. Hi, Lauren!"

First thing Pretend Lauren said: "I'm goofier than Maddie."

At least there are no eggs involved in this one

The Peanuts gang continues to inspire Leah. Thanks to A Boy Named Charlie Brown (in which our hero becomes the school spelling champion before misspelling beagle in the national finals), she can now spell fussbudget and stomach-ache. She also likes to borrow a line or two from America's favorite hard-luck kid.

The other morning I dispensed her usual round of medication and supplement capsules, praising her for quick cooperation and successful swallowing with a high five and a "Good job, Leah."

To which Leah replied (with Peanuts-esque inflection), "I'm a failure."

Hog Heaven

Apparently Leah was worried Miss Piggy was not getting enough to eat:


I assume she got tired of asking nicely. Her usual feeding attempt is to poke Miss Piggy with pieces of hay and exhort her to "Eat it, please!!"

She'll be ready for Kitchen Stadium soon

In theory, it should bode well that an autistic child is interested in the kitchen. All kinds of functional skills are learned there. However, in our daughter's mind, the kitchen is less about life skills than it is a venue for experimentation.

For some time we have had to hide our eggs (thank God for the basement refrigerator) because in a bizarre piece of quasi-performance art, Leah loves to re-enact a favorite scene from It’s the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown. For those who struggle to recall the plot points -- or those for whom these specials were not appointment television during childhood (positively un-American) -- a running gag is Marcie and Peppermint Patty's futile efforts to color eggs. When I walk in the kitchen, in the second or two it takes me to wonder how a saucepan ended up on the island, I hear Leah's voice telling me, “All the eggs are in, sir.” I look in the pan, count eight or nine yolks bobbing in water, and have to agree that yes, they certainly are. Eggshells litter the sink, and the carton, inexplicably, is in the oven.

Lately Leah has decided to expand her repertoire to sandwiches. Not a bad thing, one might think. Children take sandwiches to school every day. If one can slap some things between a couple of slices of bread and put them on a plate, one has prepared a meal, right?

Leah has other ideas.

One of them is to dispense with the plate altogether. I find her creations on the counter or on the kitchen table, like an edible centerpiece. Mind you, it is actually a relief that she chooses to display them rather than eat them, since her celiac disease precludes her eating ordinary sandwich bread. Early on, I tried to interest her in an actual edible sandwich with bread that will not wreak havoc on her digestive tract, but she quickly taught me that eating is not the main purpose here. Our Leah is driven to create. She seems to start in the direction of peanut butter and jelly, but during sandwich assembly, after she slaps some peanut butter on one of the bread slices, she invariably decides that jelly is just too pedestrian, and substitutes something a little more unique. In recent weeks her special ingredient choices have included:

• Parsley
• Maple syrup
• Dish soap (added after the maple syrup got messy -- intention might have been to clean rather than to make a culinary statement)
  
• Spring onion stalks
• Lettuce
  

If you've watched the original Iron Chef, it may occur to you, as it has to me, that some of these concoctions are well suited for Kitchen Stadium. The Japanese palate, as presented by the chefs and challengers, is very different from that of your typical American couch potato. It's possible that the fortune teller judge or one of the rotating stable of vapid actresses on the panel might say something like, "The texture of the peanut butter beautifully compliments the remaining crunch in the three-week-old iceberg lettuce." Then again, the fortune teller might be motivated to repeat one of my favorite Iron Chef lines of all time: "This tastes like failed soybean curd!" If they ever resurrect the original, look for Leah to take her place alongside Iron Chefs Chinese, Japanese, French, and Italian in the role of Iron Chef Quirky.