"I help. I help!" Was her refrain.
And then we would sing, "Clean, clean, clean."
We must have been at it 45 minutes or so when I began to think about how very normal this exchange was. I felt like I had a little friend beside me as we sang and she followed simple instructions. This was how I had always thought it would be like having a little girl.
I was enjoying myself, despite the fact that I was cleaning our old, crumbling and rusting bathrooms. The exchange was so normal and pleasant that I even started to think about how ironic it would be that as soon as she got her autism label, she would start improving so much.
Then I made the mistake of asking her to do something that she didn't like and all hell broke loose. We were back to square one. Oh ya, that's the Finleigh I know and love.
But, she's growing up. This glimmer of normality, this new found desire to help tells me so. Hopefully we can get her some good behavioural therapy and we can learn how to help her work through her emotions in a more productive way. Because a day without a breakdown or 12? How great would that be?