Logan skipped into the kitchen, zooming his small Mario toy in the air so it could “fly.” As I dried dishes, I heard him chattering happily behind me. It’d been a pretty good week so far, and I was only half listening to him. Since last Friday, each day his typical meltdown-modes would be triggered a few times, like normal, but somehow he’s seemed to only start them–it’s as if he can now pull himself out of a nose-dive before crashing.
Suddenly I became aware he’d fallen silent.
I turned, and there was Logan, holding a piece of broken sugar cookie, its bright red sprinkles twinkling. He stared at it, paralyzed in the sugary treat’s shine.
Shit, I thought. I was so sure I’d cleaned up all of Sadie’s snack.
Logan’s voice was low and sounded almost scared. “Can I eat that?” he asked, his eyes, round and blue, poring into mine.
I spoke carefully. “Well, it has gluten in it, honey,” I said.
His eyes switched back to the cookie. Mario dropped to his side.
“I will just put it back,” Logan announced. And he placed the cookie back on the counter.
Dear lord. Did he really just decide not to eat a cookie? With no fits? No screaming? No hitting? Seriously?!?
Also filed in the “seriously?!?” category, this week on Wednesday his preschool teacher reported Logan had actually engaged a new classmate in play rather than playing alone all day, and later, both his speech and OT therapists told me he’d been having markedly improved eye contact.
It’s all either coincidence–or this diet might actually be working.