Monday, February 27

Henry has been having what we call "rages", and the developmental specialist attributes them to pubescent hormone development. Not much to be done about them unless we want to drug him up, and we don't (yet) want to. But he goes from Placid Buddha to The Incredible Hulk in about one second flat, so these mood swings are very disconcerting. Oh well!

In fact, he had such an alarming one at school a few weeks ago that they called me in to help. By the time I got there, the storm had pretty much blown itself out, and he was ready for a little calming water play. The school folks are all very experienced and creative professionals, so you know it had to be really, really bad. This scenario happens a lot lately: Henry's therapeutic support staff, teachers or doctors , and me, exchanging looks of mystified despair while Henry is raging in the background. There is always a comically hopeful tinge in there, too, as though we still hope (contrary to all evidence) that the other person in the room really does have the key to helping Henry, after all. They've just momentarily forgotten it, right? Nope.

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