After the swell day on Wednesday, I called The Feelings Doctor and asked to see him before he left on vacation next week. He'll be gone next week, we'll be gone the week after that, and then the appointment we'd scheduled to discuss his observations wasn't until the end of the following week. He did end up calling on Thursday, right as the snowstorm hit, to say that his 5 pm appointment had cancelled due to the weather, but that if I wanted to brave it through the frozen tundra, he could meet with me after all.

Boy, did THAT afternoon suck! I immediately called Pepper's school to see if I can catch her before the buses leave, as Pepper is the last drop-off on the way home and it's quicker for me to drive over and get her if she'd not already en route. No problem, says the nice school secretary, the buses haven't even arrived, actually, because of the snow. I zip over there, the roads very treacherous, pick her up and head off to Peanut's school. We witness much fishtailing, much bad driving. Many moons later, we arrive. OK, now off to the doctor's office! More fun driving, get there, get kids settled more (Pepper) or less (Peanut) in the waiting room.

We go over his observations. He thinks Peanut has Asperger's Syndrome, which - as soon as he says it - I think, "Of course." Asperger's Syndrome is a disorder on the autistic spectrum. Children with Asperger's have difficulty in social situations, because they find it impossible to gauge non-verbal cues. They have average to above average intelligence, they tend to have obsessive interests, they have a marked avoidance of eye contact, they are highly upset by changes in their routine. Let me preface my easy acceptance of this preliminary diagnosis by mentioning a few highlights in the life of Peanut thus far:

At 14 months, Peanut plays by himself alone for upwards of 45 minutes if left to do so. He does not respond to his name being called or attempts to get his attention. He rocks, he does not make eye contact easily. We know he's not deaf, though, because he comes scooting and drooling over real fast if you say "ice cream," and he is incredibly affectionate and snuggly. He laughs easily, eats heartily, and drools constantly.

At 18 months, Peanut is a whirlwind. I have previously discussed what a handful my baby boy was, and I am one exhausted mom. Around this time is when I began taking an anti-depressant, which has helped me tremendously. When Peanut sees something that excites him on t.v., he bounces up and down in place for minutes at a time while laughing. He walks on his tiptoes, puts everything in his mouth, and cannot be kept out of places he wants to explore unless we physically prevent it. Our house is a maze of safety gates, and yet the second there is an opportunity to explore, he's there. I cannot even leave the gate off the stairs long enough to haul a load of laundry up, because he hears the noise of me taking the gate down and come running. He is so quick that even if I left the gate down for the 10 seconds it would take to carry a basket up the stairs, he will be halfway up behind me as I turn around to descend.

He wants to know how things work, he pokes and prods and opens and closes and shakes and pulls until he is satisfied. He is so good with locks and doors that we keep all doors locked and when open, gated. We have an incident where a pizza delivery guy comes to the front door instead of the side door as expected. When the car pulls up, I go to the side door, unlock and open the door, but then see he's on his way to the front door instead. I push the door closed, but failed to make sure it has caught. In the time it takes for me to open the front door, pay the pizza guy and accept the pizzas, Peanut has figured out that (a) the door isn't shut all the way and (b) how to push the lever on the screen door to get outside. In the span of maybe 15 seconds, Mr. Velma and I quickly realize that Peanut is nowhere to be found, rush around frantically calling his name, then turn to see that the side door is open. Yup, there he is - the little bugger is standing 10 feet outside the side door, in nothing but a diaper, bouncing up and down in excitment at what he's done. Mind you, this all literally happened in the span of a minute, start to finish.

At barely two, Peanut knows all his shapes and colors and numbers and letters, and has actually mastered one-to-one number correspondence. This is apparently ahead of schedule, not that I would know, but his teacher seems amazed and trots him out for the other teachers like a parlor trick to show off what he says. Ah, what he says - here's the thing: he doesn't talk much, and what he says is really hard to understand. He begins to meltdown over things like me taking a different route to the store or not putting on the same coat he had on yesterday. He runs around in nothing but a diaper as much as possible, and gets upset when we try to put him in anything but sweatpants.

At 3 years, he is sweet but sensitive. He wants things just so, and if they aren't, he cries inconsolably. He is down to one sippy cup he will drink out of, which we wash and re-use constantly. He gets very upset if his pants and shirts aren't long enough. He scratches his eczema patches. His teachers use phrases like "has difficulty with transitions" and "easily frustrated."

Here we come to one of my difficulties in judging what is going on with him. What child isn't "easily frustrated" at age 2? Where do you draw the line between normal developmental hiccups and something that may need a little outside help? Every child is different, but my kids are DIFFERENT. Different from each other, for sure, which has made it hard to judge. At 10 months, Pepper was saying a dozen or so words, pointing to what she wanted, and not crawling. We took her in to be evaluated, and after a morning playing with the nice lady at the developmental center, were told that she wasn't crawling because she didn't need to: when she wanted something, she communicated it to us and we gave it to her, so why should she bother moving? My favorite trick that she did that day was when the therapist sat her on a blanket and put a toy out of her reach. She leaned over to try and grab it, looked at us to get our attention as she pointed and babbled, and when we didn't respond, the kid grabbed hold of the blanket and pulled the fabric toward her until she brought the toy into her reach.

So.

We next will go visit Children's Hospital in Boston, where they have a developmental disorder clinic. This will likely take a few months, as they have a waiting list. Meanwhile, the school district special education department is schedling him for some tests, and we already have that OT evaluation scheduled for him, which every agrees we should keep.

I've been trawling the internet, reading up on Asperger's and thinking about all the weird stuff people in both sides of our family do and having many "Ah HA!!" moments. I've pestered my sister about her synesthesia (which we agree is pretty cool), diagnosed my father as being at the very least borderline Aspie (look! I've already adopted the friendly nickname people in the AS community use!), chronicled my brother's severe dyslexia, blah blah blah blah blah.

Peanut is my sweet, smart, happy, active little guy, and right now I feel really good and happy that I may have been given a key to unlock some of the mystery I've always felt about why he does the things he does.