It's christening day in the Hamilton household -- Mike and I will be
rejecting Satan on behalf of our newest nephew this afternoon. Maddie
has resigned herself to the parental dictate that she will wear a
dress for the occasion. All three girls have purchased appropriate
shoes following another parental pronouncement that Leah will not be
attending said solemn occasion in her blue Crocs. We are already
bracing ourselves for raised eyebrows in the congregation; we see no
point in piling it on with questionable fashion sense.
Everyone was freshly scrubbed, allergy-friendly rations were packed,
and lectures were delivered about appropriate church behavior. We were
on schedule until Leah's dress went AWOL. The dress she had tried on a
couple of hours before. The dress we'd made her take off and put aside
to avoid potential spills. Gone.
Searching three floors of house ensued, and pretty soon it became Man
vs. House; even in our cluttered abode, it was hard to imagine a dress
vanishing into thin air. When we ran into Leah on our search, she
offered a vague 'over there' any time we asked. A substitute dress was
found, and we were prepared to puzzle over the dress' whereabouts on
the ride to Virginia, until one of us said to the other, 'You have the
camera, right?'
Um, no. Neither of us had it. The brand new one that replaced the one
that mysteriously vanished at Hershey Park, and was observed in its
box that morning. The kids were buckled in the van, substitute dress
and all, waiting for the adults to get themselves together, in a rare
role reversal.
Inside, f-bombs were dropping like an air raid over London. Threats
were made to empty most of the house into the first portable dumpster
that could be parked in the driveway. But we knew we were going down
in defeat.
As I yanked open the van door, Lauren and Maddie were treated to me
muttering about losing the brand-new camera. Lauren apparently found
this a very strange question. She looked at me oddly when she said,
very matter-of-factly, "Leah packed it in her backpack."
I was still upstairs mulling appropriate godmother clothing when the
packing took place. It seemed plausible.
"Show me," I said.
Of course, when I opened the backpack, I had to remove Leah's original
dress, still on its hanger, to find the camera, which was also there.
Un seven years of life with autism, I've gotten much better at getting
into Leah's head, but in those minutes spent in the house, there was
still a place I didn't manage to go.
There was nothing else for it. We praised her for remembering to pack
the camera. We even made it to the church on time.
Now if we could only teach Maddie how to pronounce 'baptism.'
Final moments of original sin. Leah consented to pose for pictures, but was less concerned about whether she was looking at the camera.
Maddie could hardly wait to do a feeding. She lasted about half an ounce and said, "I'm done."
