P eanut butter, butter they will lick and fetch the lot out and your pussy juice. I put a huge scoop of peanut butter in my cunt and my female dog licked it clean. Her tongue felt good licking my pussy.
I'm ready to do it again. I had a lady over my knees skirt pulled up arse cocked up no nickers I pulled her cheeks open and put loads in and around her arse oh my he opened her arse up more butter more butter she cum everywhere. I 've tried it before when I had a dog. Got out of the pool and loved it when he started licking off the dripping water off my bathing suit ass and then it prompted the idea to bring him to my bedroom later on God it was so good Just licking over and over and that BIG tongue licked everywhere I would have wanted it to lick.
I t also feels really good to have a dog lick my ass. I think they must like the way it tastes and smells. And I sure like to feel their tongue there. It's fun when the dog sniffs while he's licking I wonder if they can tell how much I like it when my ass puckers up and opens and closes.
I think I might cum just thinking of it. Y our description of your bum hole and the smell of arse and the puckering I've nearly and will cum thinking of it. O ne time when I was 15, I was at a friend's house when she had to leave. She had a big house with a long staircase and a cute little mutt.
I was alone in the house with the dog on the stairs when he started trying to sniff between my legs. At first I laughed and tried pushing him away, but it felt kind of good. I opened my legs a little for him and I could feel his little furs lightly brush the inside of my thighs as he pushed his nose up to my crotch. He kept sniffing, so I undid my shorts and pulled them down and pulled my panties aside so he could get to my pussy. He seemed to like it when I did that because he could really smell me then, and taste me.
I took off my panties and he started licking me kind of slowly and gently and rhythmically, making sounds with his tongue. I sat back on the stairs while he licked, and I opened my legs wider.
His tongue was warm and moist, and felt really good. I moved my hips ever so slightly while he licked. The combination of light pressure and wetness began to send me into a tense sort of frenzy and I started sighing and breathing louder, letting the little dog lap up my juices. I could feel how swollen I was getting and my pussy started tingling. I liked watching him lick me and move his tongue sometimes across my clit, sometimes lower where I was dripping He moved it over my clit just the right number of times, keeping me really tense with anticipation.
When I finally came, it was the strongest, hardest orgasm I'd ever had and I called out loudly many times. What a memory. I t is amazing! Your pussy just feels so good! I started when i was 11! I have a girl friend who has 2 big dogs, a Great Dane, and a Boxer, and she lets them do her regularly, she has tried to talk me into trying it, and even though she looks like she is in ORBIT when one of them is doing it to her,I haven't quite gotten up the nerve yet to try it.
I've watched her quite a few times and it's really hot, and she gets really wild with them inside her, she says the knot is fantastic, I makes her almost pass out, when he puts it in her, his knot swells, and he can't get out of her and she can't get off him so she just kneels there until he's finished cumming, then the swelling goes down and he can get it out of her,by then she's full of cum.
She's trained the Dane to fuck her Missionary, she has a bench that puts her at just the right highth so he will mount her and he gets on her and drapes his paws over her and like lays on her tits and gives it to her. I let the Dane lick my pussy one afternoon, and she's right, it was fantastic, that long, rough tongue goes clear inside you,and that rough texture, after you get used to it, drives a girl insane.
I almost let him fuck me that day, but then I chickened out. He sure wanted to. These dogs are as clean as any guy I know, she suckes there cocks and gets them so hot for her that they go nuts trying to mount her. About half the time they get her ass instead of her pussy, but she says that's just as good. They just sort of switch back and forth. H ave done this a lot of times, from the age of 13 with our springer spaniel, to when I was pregnant and got the urge to now.
He likes to have me hold his cock whilst his cream comes all over the outside of my pussy, then he loves to lick it all up and doesn't stop licking until he's succeeded. I have let him put his cock inside my pussy before, but didn't want him ejaculating in there, so pulled him back a bit so it was just on the edge of the outside of my pussy.
But he loves giving me a good tonguing and seems to love pushing his little tongue right deep inside. It's the ultimate sexual pleasure. I have made my dog lick my pussy it felt so good, I spreader my legs and the dog just went in there and licked my clitis real smooth and wet I was just about to have an orgasm but then the dog stopped but now I do it often because it feels so amazing try it girls, and maybe even put peanut butter down there they will lick harder.
I have to admit that I too secretly let me dog lick my pussy every morning. Sometimes I use my pocket rocket while he licks it and my cum just runs out of me. Wish i had a bigger dog with a bigger tongue. W ell there isn't many dogs who back away they love it perhaps he prefers it to stink I'm single have a hard on will soon have my tongue tasting the juice. Y es, I worked with some physical therapists who happened to mention that one of their girlfriens put peanut butter on her pussy and let her dog go to town!
It intrigued me so much that I did it with my Golden Retriever who loved peanut butter. I did have an orgasm quickly.
I was 35 yrs. Weird, but trying it is not a enormous pervertion. Have fun, you are only young once! N o, thats sick I left the remains of the Harbottle treasury with a note for the landlord and considered the matter closed. I reasoned the sum should be sufficient to settle the damages.
I had brought with me my own slender funds, tucked carefully into a clever pocket hidden in my jacket. I had changed from my mourning ensemble to a costume of my own design, and the baron regarded me curiously.
I nodded. I have tried, I assure you. I have been brought up to do good works and to conduct myself with propriety and decorum, and yet I am forever doing the unexpected.
Something always gives me away for what I really am. The baron sketched a gesture that encompassed me from head to toe. I was quite proud of my ensemble. My boots were flat and laced almost to the knee to protect my lower limbs from thorns and branches whilst butterflying. I had modified my corset to a more athletic arrangement with light steel stays that might, in an hour of necessity, be used as weapons. I wore slim trousers tucked into the boots, and over it all a narrow skirt with a peculiar arrangement of buttons that permitted it to be raised to the knee or opened entirely to allow me to ride astride.
There was a fitted jacket to match with an assortment of clever pockets, and into one I had tucked the good luck charm I was never without—a tiny mouse of grey velvet called Chester, the sole relic of my childhood. The fabric of this curious suit was a Curious - Bellygod - Bite My Lip (CD) dark grey wool, but I had made one or two allowances for vanity.
The grey wool was trimmed with scrolls of rather dapper black silk passementerie, while my hat was an absolute confection. Broad of brim, with a snug, deep crown, it was crafted of fine black straw and wound with a length of black silk tulle that could be lowered to veil my face should bees prove troublesome.
A bouquet of deep scarlet silk roses clustered on one side, a splash of delectable color I had been powerless to resist. But even they had a purpose to serve in the field, being the perfect perch for delicate specimens with damp wings.
The hat was a stroke of inspiration, and I pointed this out to the baron. With this hat, I am entirely protected from the elements, yet my hands are unencumbered. I can lower the veil if I like to shield my face, and the hatpin is reinforced to make a very fine weapon. I do not anticipate having need of it.
I folded my hands in my lap. I know you said you believe my life is in danger, but I must tell you I think you are quite wrong. No, the fellow was a lowly villain in search of easy pickings.
It is a common enough occurrence. The fellow was simply an opportunistic housebreaker, and I surprised him by coming home somewhat sooner than he expected. When I gave chase, he was alarmed at the thought of having a witness to his crimes and attempted to frighten me by making it seem as if he would carry me off.
That is all. The baron looked pained. My tone was deliberately patient. I was planning to depart this afternoon in any event, but you have very kindly saved me the cost of a ticket to London.
I am obliged to you. The baron clucked his tongue and muttered an imprecation in German. Oh, child, what must I say to convince you of the dangers before you? I expect you are merely hungry.
Things always look darkest when one is hungry or tired, I find. I regret there is no bread, but this will serve until we can stop for some refreshment. I proffered an apple and a wedge of weeping Cheddar, and the baron took them, turning them over in his hands.
He handed back the food but took the flask, swallowing a mouthful under my watchful eye before choking hard. I assessed his color. You looked quite pale, you know. Have you difficulties with your health? But I have work yet unfinished.
I peered at him closely, scrutinizing him from his aristocratic brow to the well-formed lips under the generous mustaches, the graceful hands that clasped his knees loosely, the watchful eyes that never left mine. My heart rose in my throat, threatening to choke me.
I could not speak for a moment, and when I did, my usually low voice was quick and high. How very extraordinary. I must confess, I know nothing of her. He hesitated. He put a finger under my chin and tipped my head this way and that, studying me carefully.
It is uncanny, as if I were looking into her face once more. The same lips, the same cheekbones. I told her once I could cut glass upon those cheekbones. And of course, the eyes. I have never seen eyes that color before or since. And village children used to tease me about being a bad fairy—a changeling child. He lifted his brows. Of course, I do not wish to be a paid companion or a daughter-in-law either. They treated you with kindness?
I had a new dress every season and new books to read. Of course, that was due to the lending library. We moved so often I could never keep books of my own. Aunt Lucy always bought a subscription to the library as soon as we settled in a new village. As I grew older, I pursued my own interests. I have traveled far and seen much of the world, and when the aunts had need of me, I returned to care for them.
It was a pleasant enough life. I grinned. It always seemed that we moved just as I had amassed a good collection—eggs, frogs, beetles. I was forever leaving behind something I loved. The aunts were driven by their whims. One year we might live the whole twelvemonth in Lyme. The next they would have us move from town to town, four within the span of a year. I learned to accept it, as children do. And it taught me to travel lightly.
I do not remember meeting friends of theirs. They kept so much to themselves. And I never knew my mother, not even her name. What can you tell me? The baron opened his mouth, his lips pursed. Then he closed it sharply and shook his head. The truth is not mine to speak. I must seek permission before I reveal to you what I know, but I promise you, I will seek it, and when the moment is right, I will tell you all.
I sighed. The baron relaxed visibly then, but almost as soon as his expression eased, a shadow passed over his features again. I am the least interesting person in England, I assure you. No one could possibly want to harm me. The last paper I had written for The British Journal of Lepidoptery had stirred quite a bit of controversy, but as I always published papers and conducted my butterfly sales under the anonymity of my first initial and surname alone, no ill will could be directed towards me personally.
As strongly as I pointed out that publishing in scientific journals was a scholarly accomplishment, the aunts had protested just as vehemently that filling orders for Aurelian collectors was too near to trade to be permissible for a lady. They had compromised, albeit reluctantly, that I might continue my studies and work under the cognomen of V. In the meantime, until I am certain, you will be guided by me?
I looked at him a long moment, holding his anxious gaze with mine. Then I nodded. And my intuition tells me that you are a man upon whom I may rely.
I had no intention of permitting him to escape me until I had learned everything I could about my antecedents. Whatever matter touched me, it concerned the baron deeply. I leaned forward then, determined to press my luck as far as I could. I promise to ask no others until you deem it fit. His kindly face creased in sorrow, but he did not look away. I wish I were, but I am not. A sharp and unexpected pang struck my heart. I had thought myself indifferent to the answer, but I was wrong.
I put out my hand solemnly. Other men might have laughed. But the baron shook my hand, and having done so, he bowed over it and kissed it with courtly formality. It is not a very hopeful omen, is it? A journey begun in bloodshed augurs ill, according to the ancients. And after a moment, neither did I. The journey to London proved uneventful to the point of boredom, and I began to be a little sorry we had not taken the train. The baron insisted upon the precaution of ducking down various country lanes to make quite certain we were eluding any possible pursuers, with the result that the drive took twice as long as it ought.
He also refused any suggestion of stopping for a meal, resorting instead to a selection of unappetizing sandwiches purchased at exorbitant cost from a roadside inn. I nibbled at mine as the baron continued to formulate a plan. He suggested and discarded a dozen options before throwing up his hands and applying himself to his own repast.
It disturbs the digestion. So we will talk of other matters. Tell me, if you do not mean to be a governess or a companion, what sort of adventure do you wish to seek out? I wiped my mouth of crumbs and began to explain. I subscribe to all of the major journals on exploration and discovery. As you might deduce from my butterfly net, lepidoptery is my particular specialty.
But the baron was not listening. An expression of wonder stole over his face, and he sat back, his mournful little sandwich untouched. He collected himself. He is just the man to help us now. He will keep you safe, child. My brow furrowed. But I do not believe I can countenance the notion of staying with this Mr. He is even more a stranger to me than yourself. You must tell me something of him. He owes me a debt of gratitude, and his own conscience will not permit him to fail me if I call upon his aid.
It was very late when we arrived in London—or very early, I suppose, for dawn was upon us, pale pearl grey light washing over the city as it began to wake. His shoulders had slumped with fatigue the last several hours, and I had managed to sleep a bit, curled over my traveling bag with the baron keeping watch on the road behind.
But as we came into the city I rose, rubbing at my eyes and pinching my cheeks and pinning my hat more firmly upon my head. My previous visits to London had been brief ones en route to other lands, confined to stuffy train stations and unsavory cabs. The sight of the great sprawling gloom of the metropolis enthralled me. Have you set me off on great adventures, then, Baron? But the baron made no reply. The carriage rocked to a stop and he instructed me to alight, taking my carpetbag himself as I carried my butterfly net.
My grasp of London geography being tenuous at best, I had a notion we were somewhere east of the Tower on the north bank of the River Thames, but that was all I could determine. The neighborhood was in the heart of the docklands, filled with warehouses and cheap lodgings and people who looked—and smelled—distinctly unwashed. Gulls wheeled overhead, shrieking for food, and the heavy, greasy aroma of frying fish filled the air. We maneuvered through a narrow alley that debouched into the next street.
The baron stopped at a nondescript door at the very end of an even more nondescript wall. It looked like any of a thousand other doors in London, and the building beyond seemed a sort of warehouse, with a high roof and plain, solid structure.
The baron nodded. He fitted it to the lock and Curious - Bellygod - Bite My Lip (CD) himself in, motioning me to follow.
He locked the door carefully behind us and replaced the keys in his pocket. We were in a small anteroom of sorts, and from the various empty packing cases scattered about the floor I deduced it had once served as a shopfront for the warehouse behind. The baron beckoned me forward and we passed into the storage areas—a series of large rooms, each filthier and colder than the last, and all stuffed with rubbish.
Windows ran along the south wall, revealing that the warehouse was built directly above the river. The dank odor of water was heavy in the air, and the floors were cold with damp. Finally, we emerged into the warehouse itself, an immense cavern of a space, and I stifled a gasp.
The room was lit with the unholy crimson light of an enormous stove, and in its fiery glow I made out an endless assortment of shelves and hooks, each laden with something more grisly and disturbing than the last.
Bones leered out from the gloom—long, knobby femurs and grinning, pointed skulls with great fanged teeth. Unspeakable things floated in specimen jars of ghoulish yellow fluids, and animal skins were pinned flat to the walls as if newly flayed from the flesh.
A wide iron cauldron, large enough to boil a man, stood expectantly to one side, as if waiting for its next offering. But none of these was as disturbing as the sight that met my eyes in the center of the room.
There stood an enormous creature, rough flesh sculpted over a steel skeleton, pieces of wrinkled skin half-draped upon it, the rest hanging limp and lifeless to the floor like a discarded garment. Standing below it was a man, stripped to the waist, his naked torso covered in sweat and streaked with black, the smoky soot mingling with a collection of tattoos that spread across his back and down his arms. He wore old-fashioned breeches tucked into high boots and an apron fashioned of leather and fitted with pockets holding various tools that looked like instruments of torture.
He was wrestling with the skin of the beast, the muscles of his back and shoulders corded against the strain, and he swore fluently as he worked. It was, in fact, the lair of a taxidermist. The shelves along one wall were fitted with Wardian cases containing hundreds— no, thousands —of specimens, a veritable museum of natural history hidden away in a dingy warehouse on the north bank of the Thames.
I longed to explore everything at once, but it was the man himself who claimed my attention. He was half in shadow, and the shadow revealed him slowly.
His left eye was covered by a black leather patch, and thin white scars raked his brow and the cheekbone below. They carried on, down the length of his neck, into the thick black beard, twisting under his collarbone and around his torso. They marred only the skin, I noted, for the muscles beneath were whole and strong, and the entire impression was one of great vitality and energy, strength unbridled.
He looked like nothing so much as a fallen god working at a trade. The baron shot me a quick appraising glance. Just then he caught sight of me and paused, reaching for a shirt. To my regret, he pulled it on, obscuring his impressive form as he turned to the baron.
The baron held up a hand. This young lady is Miss Speedwell. I must beg your help and ask you to keep her here. I cannot explain yet, but I must leave her with you.
Stoker turned the full force of his gaze upon me, scrutinizing me from my butterfly net to my neatly pinned hat, and shook his head. If I had had any sense of delicacy, I would have been acutely embarrassed by the situation. As it happened, I was merely bored with their discussion. I had little doubt the baron would prevail, and I was fairly itching to see what lurked amidst the collection Mr. Stoker had amassed.
I wandered to the nearest shelf, where I peered at a specimen floating in a jar. It was a pretty little frog with enormous eyes and a faintly surprised expression. I put out a hand and he called out sharply. It took me the better part of a year to find the damned thing and it cannot be replaced. If he expected his harsh tone to cow me, he should learn differently right from the start, I decided. I picked up the jar and turned, setting a pleasant smile upon my lips.
Your seal is damaged, and the preservative solution is contaminated. The specimen looks to have been badly fixed as well. His mouth tightened. You can tell by the coloration of its lower legs. These are very bright orange with pronounced tiger stripes.
Tarsius has green legs. Really, I am quite surprised you did not see it for yourself. I should have thought so avid a collector would have noticed such a difference. Ah well, perhaps you have not had the chance to examine it closely. I was enthralled. He had appalling manners and questionable hygiene considering the state of his hands, but any man who had been to the Amazon was worth talking to. Evidently Mr. Stoker did not share my interest in conversation, for he turned back to the baron to remonstrate with him one last time.
I have to finish that bloody great elephant by next month or Lord Rosemorran will not pay me. The baron put out his hand. Stoker said nothing, and, doubtless sensing his advantage, the baron pressed it. Very well, dammit. I am nothing if not a man of my word. You have it. I will keep the lady here until you come for her. The baron put out his hand to clasp his friend by the shoulder.
Stoker protested. I studiously ignored the insult as I replaced his Phyllomedusa. Within a few moments the baron was on his way, taking his leave of me with a bow over my hand and a smartly Teutonic click of the heels. He hesitated, my hand still in his, his eyes searching my face.
I will send word soon. He curled a lip by way of reply. The baron hesitated. I held up a hand. I believe you to be a man of honor, Baron. It is plain that you are bound by strong loyalties. I must respect that. Auf Wiedersehen, Baron. He clicked his heels together a second time and pressed my hand. He left then, and Mr. Stoker saw him out, returning a moment later to find me studying his specimens again. He returned to his elephant, taking up his tools. He offered neither a seat nor refreshment, but I was not prepared to stand on ceremony.
You just reminded me of a big one I forgot. Our son never did that. Thanks for sharing. Thank you — I remember so much of this. The evaluations, the fears, the lack of sleep. I mean that is all he would wear. I had to buy Curious - Bellygod - Bite My Lip (CD) pair so he had a pair for each day of preschool and wash repeatedly. At 5 an 6 he repeated jingles off the tv — um…repeatedly.
We then had to deal with frustration, depression and an IEP in school for agression. More therapy. He is 8 now. We have problems. We have good days and we have bad days. But with diagnosis in hand we fight the good fight and walk through fire for him. You rock. Hello, can you please describe the shoulder shrugging tic? How often did it occur, facial expression? My daughter is doing this lifting with her shoulders a few times in a row and then stops. Its not an all day thing either. As a speech language pathologist with my arms wide open to kiddos and parents facing challenge of ASD… I applaud this post.
It needs to written on a pamphlet and put where every parent can reach out and grab it. SOOOO well done! If anyone wants to put it on a pamphlet, just let me know. First of all thank you for this post.
I just read your post and that was all of the signs I saw and told I was paranoid or worry too damn much. I am so glad I was not the only one who saw these signs and got help despite resistant from family, my husband, friends and her doctor. Now people know I was not crazy when I got a medical and educational diagnosis of ASD for my 3 year old when she was 2 and a half years old.
I know of someone in my area I would love to email this to her and ask if she can print some out for me in pamphlet form. She is a great friend and neighbor who is a graphic designer and printer. Again thanks for making me feel I am not alone in this! Krissy Bright. Thank you again for opening your heart to share what so many parents feel. I had to push for more than a YEAR for a diagnosis.
I knew at 12 months, when the lights went out with my daughter, that she had autism. As I like to say, when you have met one autistic child, you have met ONE autistic child.
They are all unique, just like a typical child. Whether it is autism or a stomach bug, feel confident that you are doing everything you can for your child. And then smile that God blessed you with her.
I had more than one conversation having to convince them myself. What is scary about this — and I wish every pediatrician realized — is that you can knock back regression with intensive therapy. A typical child might have a few fun and educational therapy sessions? In my dream world, all children would have the benefit of that kind of play anyway. We knew she had special needs hearing issues, club feet and a possible undiagnosed syndrome. This past summer after changing pediatricians to one who specialized in special needs children, she was diagnosed with failure to thrive and PDD-NOS pervasive Development Delay- Not otherwise Specified.
We were actually thrilled to get this diagnosis since this is what we had felt from the beginning obviously our daughter had very serious delays, not walking, talking, low muscle tone etc. That would have been the end of our search for answers — the answers we had received fit the child we saw in front of us. So we had a plan to help her and we were ready to move forward. I was beginning the journey of researching autism. And then she had a seizure. Out of the blue. She spiked a fever one morning in June, had an incredible meltdown, over the top.
Wore her self out and fell asleep. I happened to be sitting next to her while she slept and noticed her start to twitch in her sleep. I am an EMT so it only took me a few seconds to realize she was having a seizure so off we ran to the ER. Fever induced seizure, no big deal, lots of kids get them. Two weeks later another seizure but no fever. That second seizure has changed our lives forever!
Until a child has more than one seizure and or a seizure without a fever an EEG is not a standard test that is run. Because our daughter had a 2nd seizure and one with no fever the automatic next step was to do an EEG to look for signs of epilepsy.
Not good news we were thinking. I thank God every day that she had those seizures now because what we found out from the EEG was amazing, frightening, horrifying, and incredible all at the same time.
I put rare in quotes because I am not so sure that it is rare, just rarely found in my opinion. Turns out that the actual seizures she had are totally unrelated to the ESES, they just helped us find it.
Basically in ESES, when the child goes to sleep instead of the brain quieting down to rest, repair, and grow the electrical brain activity in these children actually increases. Like a million little internal brain seizures. These children are getting no deep sleep.
And you will never see it on the outside. These children may be very light or difficult sleepers. The reason I am posting this here is because children with ESES are very commonly mistakenly diagnosed with autism. Generally the same age of onset. The child may be developing completely normally and all of a sudden start regressing, losing speech and fine motor abilities. The earlier it is caught, the more chance that delays or loss of function can be reversed.
I wish I could give you links to find out more info on this disorder, but there is very little out there. Hope this might be helpful to some one. Our daughter is still way behind her peers in development but she has made so much progress since she has started treatment.
Had to share this on facebook! I have had some friends ask me about autism cause they have concerns about their child, and this was perfect to share with them! Thank you! I hope it gets even one person to get a screening. My three year old was just diagnosed in July, but I knew he was autistic by the time he was about two. Same thing with us. Great post. Especially the line of it is the child that makes you special.
Perfect reminder. Our children remind us of what really matters in life. I have to say that hanger fixation brought back memories. Early intervention is very important.
It has helped us tremendously. Wonderful post! We thought it was unique to Callum. Somebody needs to fund a study. And the sooner a child on the autism spectrum is diagnosed, the faster you can start getting them the help they will need to thrive.
This Blog was very thought provoking to me and I was inspired to write about my experience with the signs of my son. Wow, I have not long discovered your post, but know you have answers to what I have suspected for sometime.
Your blog has helped me so much these last few days get a better understanding, my daughter has been under the hospital since birth, as she has had problems from day one. I am seeking answers now and am awaiting appoinment with a genetist and others to hopefully get the answers and diagnosis I have been seeking since birth. Thanks for your posts. I knew something was different about my son from about 18 months or so.
And he spoke fine—we understood him, he asked for things he wanted, he spoke in full sentences by two. That would go on for hours and hours! Then as he started preschool, it was the dangerous behaviors—bolting out of the room, jumping off of or climbing up on furniture, bumping and crashing into everything and everyone. And even more meltdowns that resulted in his teachers having to call me several times a day to come deal with him luckily, I worked at his school.
I knew something was wrong, but never in a million years thought it was autism! All my Google searches pointed at behavior disorders, sensory processing disorder, things like that.
His symptoms never brought up autism pages. Yet, after his diagnosis of PDD-nos, I saw that he had almost all the classic symptoms, just in his own way. He paces in patterns. Curious - Bellygod - Bite My Lip (CD) covers his ears, and has huge sensory issues. He licks everything. He spoke on time and speaks well, but has a complete lack of understanding of pronouns, sarcasm, figures of speech, and an inability to appropriately answer questions.
No one listened to me until he was 4 years old and I insisted that someone evaluate him! You did the best you could. You had a lot of people fighting you. You did get him the help he needed though — which makes you an awesome mom! My six year old son is similar. He had a speech delay, but I put that down to chronic ear infections for the first two years of his life. Then, there were the night terrors and trouble sleeping. Now when you look at him, he appears normal at a glance, but when you look deeper, and add up all of his challenges, it really makes me question.
I can totally relate to this, my son is obssessed over things too. Another thing is if he comes home and say sees a book left on the floor by his baby sister and I pick it up and put it away, he will go and get the book and put it back exactly where it was on the floor. I think he looks around and proccesses where everything is when he gets home and is not comfortable when things are moved, even when they do not belong there.
It makes me obssessive because I try to make sure everything is put away before he comes home! Wonderful post, as usual. May I add that if your child is diagnosed with autism, you may want to have further testing done for fragile x syndrome. It is a genetic disorder that, like autism, is a spectrum disorder, and they share many, many similarities. My son played with the lights before he could reach them. Then he turned them off and on constantly. I knew something was up when he was a year old.
Our boy is a light flipper too. Passersby might think disco fever is going on inside sometimes. Another wonderful post! I just connected with another mom who has a newly diagnosed son and I recommended your blog.
Thank you for all of your beautifully written posts!! LOVED this post! Our 2yr old son was diagnosed this past fall and prior to that we were pretty sure he was on the spectrum after a few agonizing months of going through exactly what you described in your post….
Great advice for parents who have concerns and that sixth sense that something is not quite right with their little one. I am thankful we ignored our doctor or we would have lost valuable therapy time like you pointed out.
Blogs like yours and on-line support groups have been my life line. Pingback: Deja vu all over again that cynking feeling. Thank you so much for this wonderful place to come and read about a journey so much like my own, Curious - Bellygod - Bite My Lip (CD). In some ways, my journey differs because we adopted our son out of foster care and knew he had some developmental delay.
The caseworkers kept telling us that he the delay was from neglect. When we were going through our adoption journey, I had many people some of them close friends question my sanity. Why would you saddle yourself with such a child?
All I can and still do say to people who believe that is I feel sorry for you. This boy may not have been born through me, but he was born TO me. Surely as any child was born to a mother. He is mine. Never doubt it. And finally, I am neither a saint or a lunatic. I am just a Mom who loves all her kids. I Love the way that you said it is the child who makes you special…………it is so true! He has taught me way more than I could ever teach him in one lifetime. My oldest, now 9, did most of these things except the flappinessis.
When you asked him questions, he would just stare off. And food, forget it — he fell off of the charts because he was so small for his age. He had speech therapy twice a week and I just kept thinking he had some type of autism. Amazingly, though, at a little over two, Curious - Bellygod - Bite My Lip (CD), he said his first word oof — for dog and by two and a half had about 6 words all one syllable, but words non-the-less. His vocabulary got bigger and bigger!
Then, at around 5, things changed. He became very social — especially with other kids. He was able to talk now, and it seemed like he wanted to talk to everyone. He now is completely out of speech therapy.
He is still a little behind in his academics, but will be completely pulled out of resource classes by the end of this year. I just wanted to share this because possibly, for some, there may be hope not for most, I know, but for a lucky few.
Yes, get your child tested. Yes, get them started in therapy because it will help! And possibly, one day, things could change. Thanks for your blog. I know you are helping people! I am the grandmother of a child who has autism. He is my angel child. My love for him is so huge sometimes it just spills out my eyes in tears of joy. I am so filled with hope for his future and I know one thing for sure…he will know he is loved. Thank you for being a grandmother who gets it!
Mine has. So, I spend a lot of time talking with both child care providers and parents. I have a profound respect for the fear that parents feel, and also for what parents can accomplish in the name of loving their child ren. I think your blog post is great. I would like to be able to share it and your blog with both families and the staff where I work. May I do so? I will be reading your blog regularly. Hope you are feeling better soon.
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