Pins and Needles
Benjamin's foot fell asleep for the first time last night at dinner. Sounds like no big deal, right? Wrong. It was obviously terrifying to him, and he was completely unable to verbalize what was happening. I mean, try to put that sensation into words if you've never had it happen before. He was clearly and rapidly descending into one of his anxious fits with no explanation. His first try was, "I need to go play tag right now." I guess he was thinking he needed to get the blood flowing, which was a good instinct. Only he couldn't bring himself to stand on the leg. We had to go round and round a bit before I (Genius Dad TM) figured out what was going on. We still couldn't convince him to walk around, so I end up holding a crying 4-year-old in a restaurant while Andrea and I try to rub his foot and calf. Andrew was blissfully tearing apart his meal, having poured his entire drink all over himself, the table, and the floor only moments before, his nightly crisis quota already achieved. It's hard to capture how absurd every mealtime has become in words, but each night there's a challenge. The highlight of the nightly ordeal is when we let Ben say the blessing. Usually goes like, "thanks for this wonderful dinner, thanks to dad for making this wonderful food (Usually I didn't), much love to mom, and all the other people we love, amen."
-Dave
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