(The Boy Who Cried Wolf is a story about Hudson, our beloved six year old who just happens to have an extra chromosome.)

They say when the cat’s away the mice will play. And last weekend I told you about my adventures in Whitefish Bay over July 4th weekend. While I was away at the wedding, my boys hiked Mt. Kearsarge, just 30 minutes north in Warner, NH.

It’s a real challenge for our family finding summertime activities everyone can do together. On the mini-golf course, Hudson, cat-like, insists on sitting right in the middle of the green. Every. Single. Putt.

Hiking has always been tough because he walked late. And he’d rather sit than walk anyway. Beach, pool and lake trips are difficult because he’s afraid of water, still hasn’t figured out how to deal with sand. (As in keep it out of his mouth.)

So Mt. Kearsarge seemed the perfect choice to hike with Hudson because you drive the first three and a half miles on the auto road to the picnic area. And from the picnic area it’s an easy 1/2 mile hike to the summit.

Hudson is six now, mostly non-verbal. And while he didn’t start walking ’til he was nearly four, he’s getting steadier on his feet every day. Jon and the boys figured he’d be ok with the short hike.

So up the auto road they drove, picnicked first, then headed up the mountain on foot. After a couple minutes, Hudson tripped. Looked like a twisted ankle, though it didn’t show swelling. Since Hudson can’t talk, he can’t say what hurts. But he refused to put weight on it, even with lots of encouragement.

So the boys hoisted him on shoulders, passed him around ’til they made it to the top.

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.

You should know that Hudson is forty-three pounds. Forty-three pounds of completely dead weight. He’s of no help, a virtual sack of potatoes. And carrying him up a mountain is no small feat.

When they got to the summit, he sat in one place, refused to walk there either. So they carried him on shoulders for the hike back down too.

When they get to the parking area, they set him down. And guess who races off to the car all smiles and ready to go? Hudson, that’s who. The Boy Who Cried Wolf.  (True story.)

People often ask me if I think Hudson is making progress. And I say yes and no. Because progress is often so slow that it’s nearly imperceptible on a daily basis.

Hudson’s always been petrified of water. But just last week at my aunt and uncle’s at the Cape, Hudson nervously (but willingly) got in a kayak with his dad, had a wonderful ride across the glassy pond. Then later that afternoon, he made his way back to the kayak, pointed to it. His way of asking for another ride. Progress. Baby steps.

Later that week he rode a tube with his dad down the current of the natural lazy river at Woodneck Beach in Falmouth.

And this may sound like a crazy one. But Hudson won’t eat ice cream. Nope. He’s always had sensory issues eating cold things, and always refuses it.

But after mini-golfing at the Cape last week, one of the boys coaxed a reluctant Hudson to try a taste of vanilla ice cream. And guess what? Mikey liked it! And he’s been sampling ice cream ever since. So YAY Hudson, and yay us! One more thing we can do together.

Each baby step forward reminds me that Hudson and all people with special needs are far more like the rest of us than they are different. Maybe they’re just taking the scenic route.

You may also like: Going on a Bear Hunt

The post Boy Who Cried Wolf appeared first on Through Her Looking Glass.

I got the biggest charge the other day, went to download pictures from my phone for the site, got quite a surprise. Oh yeah, Hudson was involved. Let me back up.

You remember Bil Keane’s Family Circus comic strip, right? I sure do. Sunday mornings were always exciting when I was little. Why? I’d like to say it was because of church and all, but truthfully it was because the Sunday paper arrived. And tucked inside, with all the advertisements, coupons and Parade magazine, were the comics. Yes, the comics. Exciting to that little person. (Me.)

Just Like Billy by allie taylor

My favorite comic strip was Blondie, featuring that work-avoiding, sandwich-munching, nap-snatching, good for nothing Dagwood, along with Mr. Dithers and crew. I also loved Beetle Bailey. And the Family Circus. Little did I know how true to life the scenes in the Family Circus would prove to be one day. Ha. Lots of confusion, busyness, little boys and love featured in that Family Circus family.

My favorite scenes were the ones where Bil Keane tracked little Billy on his myriad adventures, like the mail box adventure above. The dotted lines revealed the rapidly firing synapses in that curious, busy little Billy mind. I remember sitting on the blue family room sofa on Sunday mornings, the one with the picture windows facing out back towards the plum tree and bird feeders. My feet not quite touching the floor, I’d carefully trace those tiny black broken lines with my pointer finger. Genuinely entertained by each little stop on Billy’s journey, what he was up to this time. Which was usually avoiding a task or job he’d been assigned. It wasn’t that he was necessarily naughty, he was just easily distracted from the task at hand. (Hmmm….nothing like that ever happens in our house. Sigh.)

So last week Hudson and I are home alone for a few hours and I have to go out later, so I’ve got to sneak in a quick shower. I put Curious George on for Hudson, leave the bathroom door cracked in case there’s an emergency. (Let me just say for starters that Curious George is probably not the best cartoon choice for Hudson. He doesn’t exactly need any ideas or encouragement.) No sooner is the shower going and I’m in, than I hear the bathroom door creak open. Oh great. I sneak peek through the tiny crack between the wall and curtain. Hudson hasn’t figured out yet that when the water’s running, there’s someone behind the shower curtain. He picks up a magazine, and that’s good too, because I don’t hear a bang or crash. (Hudson has history: Hudson’s Guardian Angel .) And I hope for the best. A few moments later I hear the door creak again and he’s toddled out.

So I get out fast, discover my phone’s missing. Aha. That’s what Hudson was up to, swiping my phone. I ask him where it is. He stares at me blankly for a second, ignores me, continues watching Curious George. If you don’t know, Hudson has Down syndrome. He just turned five, doesn’t verbalize much, though he gets his point across and understands a whole lot more than he can say. We do a lot of guessing around here.

I troll around the living room looking at Hudson’s eye level, try to imagine what I’d do with a pink iPhone-4 if I were him…and in short order I find it stashed under a living room chair, screen still intact. This time. (Wish I could say the same for my iPad.) Phew.

Fast forward to a few days ago. I go to download pictures from my phone. This is what I find.

I think his hand is over the lense.

Now it’s moving off the lense.

I know, would somebody please wipe this kid’s nose???

So apparently Hudson has discovered the art of the selfie. In all, he took 21 pictures, so I spared you the full photo gallery. (Your welcome.) These pictures are those little dotted lines revealing those firing synapses in that curious, busy little Hudson mind. Just like Billy.

Hudson makes me laugh.

You may also enjoy: Little Experiment

The post Just Like Billy appeared first on Through Her Looking Glass.