According to my son, Saturdays and Sundays are "Mom and Bud Days." Each week, somewhere around Thursday, we begin discussing the agenda and making plans. I think the planning gets us both through our weeks.
Today's Mom and Bud day involved:
1. A visit to the library so that Bud could fix all the clocks (a la Curious George).
2. A stop at Dunkin Donuts for munchkins (him) and medium-coffee-skim-milk-one-sugar-and-a-caramel-flavor-shot (me).
3. Playtime at the park.
We were having a lovely time at the park when a family of four arrived with their dog. Bud was nervous as they unpacked the car, and became visibly agitated as their dog frolicked near them.
"Don't worry, honey," I said, loud enough for the family to hear. "That doggie won't come near you."
"It's okay - he's friendly," the dad shouted over to us.
"We have a dog phobia here," I shouted back, in as kind a tone as I could muster.
The dog barrelled toward us, as if to prove just how friendly he was. Bud darted away with his hands on his ears, shouting "No doggie! Go away!"
"A very, very, severe phobia!" I shouted over my shoulder, a bit less kindly, as I chased after Bud spewing comforting words.
The dad moved to catch his dog and said, in an attempt to reassure Bud, "Yeah, but - he's very friendly."
I stopped when I caught up to Bud, then turned to the dad and said, "Yeah, but - he's autistic."
"We'll keep him on a leash," the dad assured us. I thanked him, and the family moved to a different area of the park.
Bud and I continued playing on the slide, climbing inside the big plastic tube together and copying each other as we drummed out rhythms on the sides.
Later we went for a walk. Bud stopped at every hole in the ground to check for prairie dogs. Then he headed for his favorite stream so he could "skip some stones" (or, more accurately, hurl stones into the water.)
All things considered, it was a very good day.