Ben likes jobs. As Karen and I are getting ready to head back to Chicago, one of our routines is Ben (and I) take out the trash and go get the mail. Moms and Dads (to be stereotypical) can be different – Karen (aka Mom) is always willing if not eager to help our Benny boy with various things that I (aka Dad) know he can do or, with practice, are within his reach to do unaided.
So I’ll say, “OK Ben, time to be the Garbage Man!” He’ll grab a garbage bag or two, and we’ll walk to the trash chute, after which I hand him the mailbox key and we head down to the mail room, telling him, “OK, now you’re the mailman.” That actually comes with some slightly challenging bits, like getting an obstinate key in the mailbox keyhole, which Ben has almost mastered. After he gives me the mail, we sort it into junk, which goes into the trash, and the stuff I hand him to “give to Mommy,” and back up to the apartment we go.
We all like to be productive!
(And as you can see — yes, of course he always finds a way to hold onto his book while schlepping two garbage bags…)
Ben hoofs along the bridge in Gates Mills.
Ben awaits the exam by his neurologist today. One of his favorite things is to “go to the doctor.” So, this was a good day.
Thanksgiving in our apartment, for about 7 minutes.
Ben was napping, or at least pretending to be, when I arrived to pick him up.
This Cleveland sign has to be the most cost-effective tourist dollar the city has ever spent. Year-round, there are people posing around it, on it, underneath it, every time we drive by it with Ben. But today, it’s drizzly, snowy, cold, breezy and so here is a picture of the sign in all of its unadorned-by-humanity glory.
The social story for today that Karen made for Ben, page 3.
Ben, cookies, Thanksgiving day’s end.
