And on the lighter side...

So Colin is doing very well in school, except for the occasional tantrum. Comes with the territory--the child can't speak, so he, well, screams.

There's just one little thing that the teacher's aide brought up to me this morning as I watched Colin scramble around the jungle gym with six other little blonde boys, sippy cup in hand.

"I promised Colin that I'd let you know," V. (the aide) said, "how much he would love for you to send him in with Goldfish crackers."

"Don't I know it," I answered, "but he's on a restricted diet. He can't have them."

"Ohhhhhhh!" A pitying look came over her. "Because, you see...he REALLY seemed to want them."

"How much?"

"Enough to take them off other children's plates."

That's my boy. He does the Helen Keller thing at home too: traveling from plate to plate, filching food.

If his hair analysis tests come back that he can have wheat again, then it is going RIGHT back into his diet. I don't mean to feed the monkey, but the boy doesn't just like wheat. He craves it. Colin still doesn't really speak yet, but when he finally does, I'm pretty sure his first words will be a slurred "I'll tell YOU when I've had enough" as he shovels fists full of Wheat Thins down his throat.

Poor Colin. The torture we've put him through in the name of "curing" his PDD. Some day he'll be bigger and stronger than we are, and probably of sounder mind, being much younger. I'm sort of afraid to think what he may do to us then in comeuppance...I better start secretly hording Twinkies right now.