Well, we've graduated. Both of us.

It's not that Koopa's graduation party went badly, exactly, it just was... overwhelming, I guess. For him. And for me too. And its not that it left a bad taste in my mouth, no, it just left... well, more of the taste of the reality than I usually have.

At the beginning, they sang songs (Koopa sang in whisper). This part was nice, actually. Very cute and touching. They'd been preparing for this performance for weeks, which made it that much more touching. The hard part came after the singing, when the random mingling and snacking and running around started. First, Koopa got upset  because his best friend was playing with other kids when he wanted her to play only with him. We figured that out somehow, but that minor incident seemed to set off the 'overwhelmed' mode.

Boys and girls, hairstyles and insects

When the face-painting lady at a recent event in our local park asked Koopa in the gentlest of voices, "So what do you want to be, sweetie?" I had a suspicion that she thought she was talking to a girl. But when she added "Do you want to be a... butterfly?", I had my suspicion confirmed.

Isn't it creepy that I could tell this merely by her intonation and by her choice of pattern (because, as we all know, butterfly is not a manly enough creature for a boy to have painted on his face)?

But I was happy she made that assumption because it brought Koopa into the range of options that he actually likes. He seriously considered her suggestion for a couple of seconds and then opted for a different insect: a dragonfly.

Selective mutism: some progress and challenges

He used to say "I don't want to speak English" when asked why he didn't talk at the daycare. That was back in January. I asked him again recently and his answer took me completely by surprise. He said that he had a ball in his mouth, that's why he didn't talk. I didn't know what to make of it until I read other stories about children with SM and how they explained their inability to speak. One boy, for instance, said "There is a tape in my belly and all the words are stuck there." So maybe this was just Koopa's way of explaining how not talking was not his choice, that he's just unable to do it.

A peek into a kid's world

What do you think Koopa is doing in this picture? Please choose an answer that, in your opinion, best describes the situation:

(a) Waiting for potatoes to cook so that he can make mashed potatoes for dinner;
(b) Contemplating the idea of buying me a new potato masher for Mother's day;
(c) Blowing on the potato masher to see if he can knock it down while also holding it pinned down to the table with his fingers;
(d) Playing elevator.

Selective mutism

Selective mutism is a psychological condition when a child is unable to speak in certain social settings, usually due to severe anxiety. It seems that this is what has been going on with Koopa in these past four months. I hate labels and sometimes I wonder whether in his case it is even useful to use the term, or what is more harmful, to use the label and risk it getting stuck to the child, or to not use the label and risking missing important generalizations. I don't know.

A silent friendship

They became friends from the very first day they met each other. They have so much in common, its incredible. They both are extremely sensitive kids. They both love music. They don't enjoy big crowds. But the most extraordinary thing is that they both don't talk in the daycare. They don't talk to each other either. I mean, selective mutism is a known phenomenon especially in kids this age, but its far from common. To be precise, their daycare teachers have never personally encountered another case of selective mutism in their many years of teaching. And now there are two. In the same class.

Four

Around this time of day four years ago:

Well, hello there, little bladder kicker!

Two days later:

Papa's fingers to chew on!

Today:

It's been six hours and seventeen minutes now since Koopa has officially turned four, but I still can't get used to it.

Unsurprisingly, when asked what he wanted for his birthday, he confidently announced that he wanted a raccoon in a garbage can. I am delighted to see that Koopa always knows EXACTLY what he wants from life.

He meant this Folkmanis puppet.

Happy Birthday, Koopa. You're the best thing that ever happened to us. I so hope that next year your birthday will be the only reason for drinking in this family.

His rights as a man

Talking about babies again. This time Koopa unexpectedly announced, "I want a baby brother". "I thought you wanted a baby sister" I said, because until that moment he only ever talked about wanting a baby sister. He surprised me by replying quite adamantly: "NO! I want a baby brother because I am a boy! Emma* [a teacher] said that boys want baby brothers!"

Babies in bellies

Less than one week before Koopa's fourth birthday, we're talking a lot about babies and pregnancies. Babies are fascinating to Koopa at this time, I guess both because he realizes that he is now a big boy and has the desire to take care of somebody smaller than him, but also maybe because he's mourning not being a baby anymore himself and coming to terms with the idea that he'll never be one again.

Fear of toilets: Youtube therapy

If you peek at my youtube watch history list, you'll think I'm some kind of pervert: there is A LOT of videos of toilets there. That's what we've been doing lately, me and Koopa: watching videos of toilets flushing. A lot of them. Every day.