Saturday, December 13
After a day largely spent amusing or managing the amusements of all three boys, I selfishly retired to the kitchen to amuse myself by starting dinner. Henry went up to his room. There were some unusual noises, but then, that is not unusual in this house. After just a few minutes, though, I stopped chopping parsley and went to check. Wow. I've omitted the scene on the left side of the room: unclothed Henry standing on the radiator, pressed up against the cold glass of the window, a sea of string-a-beads and game pieces at his feet. To add that extra layer of surreality he is smearing a mouthful of chewed-up oats (uncooked oats are one of his favorite snacks) all over the window glass. Is it Autism or is it Performance Art?