This blog has to print a redaction or whatever. You know, if more of you would just click “follow this blog” I’d think that there were , actually, more of you here, and I’d actually try to not just make up words or spel chek or something. But until you do. I won’t. Or something. I’m already bored with that train of thought.
Train. Of. Thought. I wonder where that’s from. I’ll be right back.
The term “train of thoughts” was introduced and elaborated as early as in 1651 by Thomas Hobbes in his Leviathan, though with a somewhat different meaning (similar to the meaning used by the British associationists):
By Consequence, or train of thoughts, I understand that succession of one thought to another which is called, to distinguish it from discourse in words, mental discourse.
When a man thinketh on anything whatsoever, his next thought after is not altogether so casual as it seems to be. Not every thought to every thought succeeds indifferently.
Okay. I’m back. I’m still no closer to caring about what the term “train of thought” really means. But anyways, back to the task at hand.
Last week I posted about how much autism sucks. It does suck. I don’t take that back. But I do feel it necessary to write a rebuttal to myself. Casey is the best. He’s up there in the five greatest things that have ever happened to me. He’s not evil. His little brother is, but that just makes him funny.
Casey is awesome. He’s awesome funny, too. He memorizes movies, too much spongebob, and television shows then uses the phrases he hears from them in daily life. He says something awesome along those lines every single day. I’m going to start blogging them. I think I’ll remember, but I don’t remember what I was doing ten minutes ago (now I do, looking up “train of thought” and then playing spades on facebook).
It’s pretty obvious I haven’t done anything about my ADD
Okay. Back to Casey. Casey is my MOST affectionate child. Casey. Who has autism. He loves to come and sit on my lap and wrap his arms around my n eck. He’s not small either, which makes it even cuter. The other day we were at the park and I put my face through the railing on the bridge on the playstructure (three prepositional phrases in a row! Beat that!) and asked him what he was doing and he knelt down and kissed me on the forehead, said “so much” and ran off.
While he is the easiest to throw into a rage, he’s also the easiest to please. He thanks me for everything. Like helping him get on his super suit or letting him go fight crime.
He shares my disabling fear of spiders. Seriously, the other day I jumped off the top of my ladder while I was pressure washing my house because I was afraid there was a CHANCE a spider would land on me. No. Not just wait and see and then brush it off if it does. Plunge to an almost certain death in stead. I didn’t die. I just hurt my ankles. But Casey would have been proud.
Speaking of proud. I’m proud every single day to be Casey’s mom. I’m proud of how hard he works and how much he cares to be good even when things are so tough for him. He’s a good kid. One of the best, I’m sure.