You know, the one that the first time it falls out of your mouth you just about crap your pants because you totally sound like your mother. And the Lord knows how hard you prayed to NEVER sound like her. (well, she raised you and you came out alright so, must not be so bad)

Today I realized just how much I’ve perfected mine, in both  a verbal and non verbal way. I’ve mastered the scowl, perfected the “nope, get in there and do it, finish”, the mocking without actually mocking the whine(okay sometimes I have to mock them- especially when it is just ridiculous), disapproving by changing the shape of my mouth and seriousness by the drop in the tone of my voice. I’m impressed and terrified that it came so easily.

The mommy voice is in full effect daily when Max attempts to climb anything, dial South America on the house phone or try to ride the dog (Maddie the chihuhua, not Cisco the giant). Or when Leo is hitting his tutor, throwing duplo blocks, whining about what is to eat, or screaming because, I don’t know why he screams.

Max oh Max. This kid flirts with EVERYONE. He managed to find an audience at the Social Security office today. (Older hispanic ladies swoon over the boys blue eyes). When he is not flirting he is eating or climbing or trying so hard to be like his big brother. He’s the first kid to start clapping to the good morning song in circle time in Leos class, the kid that shares just about anything with just about anyone, the kid who loves everything about dirt and is amazing at pulling weeds, the kid that hates sleep because he might miss something.

Leo, oh my Leo. I had to bust out mommy voice big time today during therapy. Funny thing, as soon as I did he snapped out of punk kid mode and did great the balance of the session. School was better today, but he continues to hit and scream. After a chat with the ABA director on my living room floor this afternoon, she thinks he might not be in the right class for his needs. Here’s the deal with our Leo, he is smart, crazy smart but has a really hard time with certain sounds and light at time, transitions and his words. Her suggestion is to see if there is an inclusion class (where autistic kiddos are in a mainstream class, not special ed) because he needs “model peers” (he is a behavior mimic). Her thought is that it would be more structure and he’d have more of a challenge with his work. I’m going to have to see if this is even an option through the school district.

It makes perfect sense, but what if he fails. What if he will forever be that kid that is so smart but is so frustrated and can’t find his words and is in the wrong place because he can’t make it where he should be? Nope, won’t let it happen. I’ll make sure he flies. My mommy voice won’t let him sink, he’s way too special for that.

P.S. his tutor told me again today that she thinks I am so good with him, and that both the boys are amazing. Mommy voice win.

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