Start of the Scholar's Program

Doc and her youngest sib saying goodbye at Bucknell

 

To say the journey for Doc has been rocky would be an understatement, but today 6/6/13, we said goodbye to her for six weeks, as she begins the Scholars program at Bucknell University. 

As part of this program, that will result in a two year, paid in full scholarship, requires each student to apply for, interview and then participate if selected, in this 6 week summer session. 

 

Two years ago, her college course plotted, we were dropping her off to be a fighting bulldog, funny how the Lord's plans are bigger and better than those that we devise ourselves.  While the path to being a bison (and why are there so many animal mascots?) was not what we envisioned, nor did she, we are extrememly proud of her accomplishments.  She is a 4.0 student. She is driven, passionate about learning, thrives in stressful conditions with looming deadlines.  Clearly she impressed the HACC and Bucknell staff as she interviewed with 28 others for the 6 positions in this program, with her poise, charm, and social graces. While she may not admitt this out loud, she was being prepared for this journey the entire time, but had to wait for the Lord to show to her His plan.  We are proud of her for sustaining and staying on course and for having the courage to follow her heart and her dreams, while being flexible enough to seek alternative ways to make them a reality.

 

For each of you that has been following her journey, we say thank you for being faithful to pray for her, for her future and for us find the balance between parenting, guiding and loving our adult child. There have been many loud conversations about the future, many times of sorrow and joy, many uncertainties along the way, but one thing remained constant through it all, our faith in the Lord, knowing that His plans for her life were better than any we could have envisioned for her ourselves. 

Here's to a quick 6 weeks. We love you. We believe in you. 

 

A Chapter of this book is closed.

Two years ago, with a bit of anxiety we embarked on a chapter in the life of this family that was neither heartwarming, nor disheartening, but born from necessity and love for our son, Grumpy.  You see Grumpy at the age of 12 was struggling in ways that we as his parents were unable, though willing, to get him through alone. 

For those of you that may not know the story of this particular dwarf, suffice it to say that after being removed from his biological home(where he was abused) at the age of 4 under extreme stress (which to this day cause much fascination with sirens, police, etc) and then being shuttled to and from foster care homes until the age of 7 when we entered his life, this child has had less than a healthy physical, mental or spiritual head start in life.  Combine that with  RAD (reactive attachment disorder) FAS (fetal alcohol syndrome) and ADHS (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) not to mention a host of social dysfunctions, well you can start to see how the deck is stacked against this young man. 

Now, believing that the Lord brought him to us, we knew that in order to give him the help that he needed we would have to search out any means available to us for his care that we could not provide. Oh, could we feed him, sure.  Could we clothe him, absolutely.  Did we love him unconditionally, for sure. However we quickly became tired.  The stress in our home became unbearable, and it seemed if he woke each day with the mission to fight with us, and against us and anyone else that was close to him.  Siblings, grandparents, friends, teachers. 

The first year that Grumpy lived with us was somewhat uneventful.  We went into the adoption with our eyes wide open (so we thought) about the issues that surrounded him, perceived and real, knowing that there would be a "honeymoon" period where he would do his best to impress us, wow us and make us think that we had selected the best kid in the world to add to our family.  Then, we knew, and like clock work it happened, the stage where they start to feel secure,  but they don't want to trust you,  so I am going to start pushing the envelope to see if I can make them love me less.  Push he did.  It started in the small stuff.  Irritation and refusal to do chores, to brush his teeth, to wear shoes, to make his bed, to do his homework. He would stomp a foot, or roll his eyes, or be a bit mouthy.  As the weeks and months wore on, the outburst became more and more often, violent, and required us to restrain him, to put him in his room, where he had nothing but a mattress and a sheet, because he would destroy all the things in his room in his anger.  When it seemed that we could take no more, or that there were not any more shocking things he could do, he took things to a new level.  Getting in trouble at school on the bus and even in the community.  He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it.  He did not like authority, being told what to do, nor did he have any concern or ability to reason in regards to his own safety. 

Anyone that knew him when, could see the moment he started down the path to a meltdown, and either stood back to watch the show, or took off to hide in the hills. Screaming rages, hitting, punching, trying to jump out of moving cars, running away, all became a burden that we could not longer ask our other children to bear, nor could we really keep up at the pace of attacks and abuse that he was spreading in our life. 

In a desperate plea to the Lord, after Grumpy had a serious meltdown that lead us to the hospital and on to a 9 day intake at Philhaven, I started searching the Internet for some thing or someone that could help us with our son. 

It soon became apparent that in the state of PA, at the age of 12 there is not much that you are able to get aside from the services that we were already receiving for him. ( He had a TSS, he had a team of therapists, he had private therapy, and a previous in patient stay on record.)  We had been utilizing these services for about 3 years at this point in one fashion or another and they were yielding nothing!   Further research showed many options in the US that required your child to be 14 before you could place them, and they were mostly organizations out west where the fees were astronomical.  The other issue that we were up against is that in PA at the age of 14 the minor must consent to any "medical" treatments.  They must agree to take meds, or agree to sign themselves into a program.  Well if we waited that long, chances were that Grumpy would not, out of spite agree to these suggestions for his care. 

In a last ditch effort, google showed me a site for Bald Eagle Boys Camp.  I had never heard of it, had no idea what they did there, but called to talk with them about getting information sent to us so that we could investigate the option.  I remember making the call, it was hard.  Chief Dan was kind and answered many of my questions and told me about the process, and for the first time in months, I felt as if there was hope.  I showed the details to the Prince.  He also was hopeful.  We prayed about the camp, we discussed it with others, (and no surprise we were once again blazing a new trail, no one had heard about it).  We filled out the extensive application and mailed it in and waited...

In May 2011 Chief Dan and his wife came to our home to "interview" us and to meet Joseph.  When they arrived, I believe that Grumpy was curious, but cautious.  I do not know if he fully understood the scope of what was about to happen, however it was not a long time until the chief was showing Grumpy photos from camp, and telling him about the activities that they do, and was extending an offer to him for a spot at camp.  He said that there was a waiting list, and if Grumpy agreed to go then he also had to agree to work hard to get better while he was there.  During that meeting Grumpy was in a good place, he was having a good day, and I think that in looking back and remembering the conversation it was one of the first times that he could see and hear how heartbroken we were, and how helpless we felt. It made for the perfect storm.  He agreed to be placed on the waiting list. 

We were told it could take up to three months to get him in.  It was 4.5 weeks.  We packed him and drove him to camp.  Took his belongings into the lodge, watched the staff sort and pack his foot locker, we met with the staff, set goals for Grumpy, we held our breath that he would still be agreeable to the program, because they ask one last time before you leave your son, if the boy is willing to do the hard work at camp and is still in agreement with the plan.  Holding our breath, he agreed. Silently I praised the Lord and with tear filled eyes I watched my 12 year old ride off on the back of a four wheeler with his foot locker into the woods praying that this would indeed make the impact on his life that was needed.  At the same time feeling relief because he was in someone else's capable hands and I could rest. Our family could heal. 

For six weeks we wrote letters, encouraged others to do the same. We worked hard to encourage him, and praise him for his willingness to go to camp and to get better. Our fist home visit was the weekend of Labor Day weekend 2011. 

To say that his first home visit was wonderful would be a lie!  (Every 6 weeks they come home for 4 days, and holidays, they get 5- 6 days home)  It was the worst of the worst, and because it was Labor Day weekend it was an additional day long.  His reports were that he was doing great at camp, staying out of trouble, working hard... But you do remember how I told you about the honeymoon period ? Well this was exactly what was going on, just in reverse.  He was honeymooning at camp and acting out as always with us.  I remember calling the chief and asking if they could come get him, (and to their credit, they said they would...) but we knew we had to endure, and it was hard.  With great joy on the day ending home visit, we drove him to the bus stop.  Happy he was going back, happy that we survived the visit, happy that he was at camp, and praying that he would start showing his true colors there as well.  Praying that he would be broken, so that he could start to heal.

With dread the next home visit came around, it was more of the same.  Alas, we repeated this cycle for some time, and somewhere between the 6th home visit and the 18th home visit we started seeing the shift.  Was it huge at first, no.  But did we start to enjoy having him home a bit more and more, you bet.  Did his siblings start to miss him, yes!  Did we start looking forward to his home visits, indeed we did.  Along with that we started to not like taking him to the bus stop, we started wanting him to stay home with us and return to the family.  Yet there was still much to be done on Grumpy's part.  Part of being ready to graduate, meant the home visits and camp visits had to look the same, having a good attitude, being responsible, being a leader, making wise decisions....

There have been walls broken down, relationships built up, there has been trust established, there has been new skills learned for communicating, for dealing with disappointments, for dealing with struggles and desires to have things our own way.  There have been memories made, hiking, fishing, canoe trips, living outdoors year round, cooking and planning his own meals and those of his tribe.  There have been lessons on longitude and latitude and attitude.  At the center of it all, Christ.  Surrounded by young men that give two years of their lives to live in the woods with these troubled young boys to mold them into young men that return home to be a blessing to their families, not a burden, to be productive in society, not a drain, with softer hearts for their loved ones, a new appreciation for life, and a clearer understanding of what motivates them. 

Last Thursday, June 6th we attended Grumpy's graduation.  We are so grateful to the camp, to the staff, to the Lord, for the work that has been done on Grumpy's behalf  and in his life. Is he fixed, nope.  But we did not send him there expecting that they would fix him.  We sent him there expecting that he would be changed, that his life would be altered.  It has been.  He has now been home a week.  There are some difficulties but for the most part the road has been smooth.  Is he "honeymooning" again?  Time will tell.  So as this chapter has closed a new one begins... you really can't make this stuff up.

PIG

This weekend there was a great noisy game going on in our backyard.  Four male Lingle dwarfs, one Korean dwarf and the Prince and I along with two dogs, barked, yelled, shouted, groaned and cheered each other on, as we participated in a rousing round of PIG.  What is PIG you ask - oh well, it is like the HORSE game, ( you shoot the basketball, if you make the shot the next person shoots from where you are, if they miss they get a letter, first person to spell the animal name is out and so it goes until you have a winner.  The winner has the least amount of letters.) but because there are so many of us playing, and we wanted the game to end before dark, we picked an animal with a shorter name. 

Okay, aside from the obvious, bonding, what did I learn from this rousing round of fun in the backyard?  First and foremost, I still have skills... at least in beating a pile of over confident, somewhat sassy kids and hubby.  Secondly, if you pay attention to the small things in the way your kids play you can learn a lot about them! 

Lesson one : Impromptu is always best.  No one is on guard, everyone jumps into the fray and does so thinking that this is a great idea and thinking it is going to be great fun.  Even if they are a bit hesitant, the enthusiasm of the unexpected wins them over in the first few minutes of foolishness.

Lesson two: Don't take yourself seriously. If you do that and let your pride, or frustration show through in irritation or exasperation in the way they play (because it may not be the way you play) your going to ruin lesson number 1. 

Lesson three:  There are always winners and losers.  It is unavoidable.  It is the grace in how you win or loose that makes the difference. 

Lesson four:  Family time is to be treasured and sought out.  Sometimes life gets so busy and we get wrapped up in the need to finish the dinner dishes, or put away the laundry that we miss opportunities to play with our kids.  Your laundry will always need to be done, your dishes will always get dirty. At the end of the day however, your kids are a day older and a day closer to leaving the nest.  You will never get that day back, that missed opportunity.

Lesson five:  Memories made through the unexpected fun times are what conversations at bedtime and the next day are made of.  The promise of doing it again tomorrow (or soon) creates a sensation of anticipation and excitement.  As parents we should strive to be the source of that excitement for our kids. Our homes should be the place where they want to spend time. Where they want to bring their friends.  If we are not providing our kids with this, knowing that they desire it, they will find it elsewhere and with others. While there is a time for them to move on from us, until that time, our home should still be the first place they desire to be.  

So I know what you really want to know - who was the winner - well game one - Me - game two Happy.   No the Prince and all his skills was not able to beat us out with his long range shots.  Were the neighbors thrilled when we called it a day... I can only imagine.  But did they witness Grumpy, instructing Bashful in the fact that is okay to be out of the game, and not to pout about it, because no one will want to play with him if he acts like a sore looser.  NOPE ....  and really folks that's what it's all about, the joy in knowing that your kids are getting it.  That your voice is being heard, that your example is being followed.  It may not be when we want it, or when we think it should be, however if you listen and observe them at play, you will see yourself reflected in them! 

You really can't make this stuff up! 

Skin Melts

I am living proof, that when skin meets flame, no matter how small the flame, your skin, well at least mine, will melt. 

Call it a senior moment, call it a stupidity, call it an accident... but I really do NOT have to wonder where my dwarfs "get it" from.

Living life like a mom, washing dishes and cooking dinner...  my wet hands, needed to be dried before stirring the pot of sauce on the stove.  I reach over, grab the hand towel off the counter, from beside the pot on the stove I was going to stir, to dry my hands and it feels hot, I look down in time to see a small flame, on the corner of the towel, touch the back of my hand, and melt a patch of skin...  I cry out simultaneously in pain, and amazement at what I had witnessed, I fling the towel to the counter and start yelling for help. 

There are only two others in the house, one upstairs and one downstairs, both plugged in to their electronics... a few moments of panic pass as I am struggling to find a band aide, cream and not pass out from the smell of burning towel and what I assume is my melted flesh... to the rescue comes my "skin baby".  She calmly helps me bandage the spot, and finds me a bag of shredded frozen cheese to cool down the spot , and turns and asks me... is the towel still on the fire? 

Gee, I do not know... but what I do know is that you really you can't make this stuff up...

(as a side note,  the towel was not on fire any longer, and while it hurt like a bugger, the spot of missing skin is only the size of a quarter and I am confident it will heal quickly.)

Mother Son Banquet at Bald Eagle

At the end of the Mother Son Banquet.... Grumpy and the 39 boys and chiefs from camp closed out the evening with a song (the video clip above) - as a tribute to their mom's.  This is just a portion of the song, but the meaning is clear - we have this moment: yesterday is gone and we are not promised tomorrow. 

I will say that traveling to camp yesterday I was talking and talking talking to myself.  Oddly, or maybe not, I found myself answering as well.  While I had worked on my "speech" for these boys and moms, I was still not satisfied with the flow.  I thought I had the content down, but was just struggling to make is seamless. 

Clearly, if you know me, you know I have no problem speaking to anyone, about anything, but this group had me a bit on edge, because while I wanted to encourage, I did not want to preach. While I wanted to share my hope in Christ, I did not want to make anyone angry that I made living life so simplistic.  I wanted to express the complexity of life without harping on the hardship of life. This is something that the moms and the boys all know too well.  Oh the things that I wanted!  You do know how this will go --- God wins, His words were my words and all that work, simply diminished, as I spoke from my heart to the mom's of broken clay pots. 

Humbly with tears in my eyes I stood before a room of moms at all different stages in the process of hurt and healing with their sons.  I recounted how I got to this place before them. 

How I was never going to get married, never have children.  How in the 12th grade, I met a blond haired blue eyes young man that made me change my mind about at least the marriage thing.  How after four years of high school, college and the military for him, we wed, and that four months later we were expecting our first child.  How there was a big break (5years) between child number 1 and child number 2 because I really was not interested in having any more.  How after #2 child number 3 was born 2 years and one week to the day later.  That that is when I told God I was done with children and sent the Prince to the doctor to have the situation taken care of. For good.

I then shared how God surely laughed a big belly laugh that day, as he alone knew what was to come! 

I simply shared that in a million years I never thought I would be standing before a group sharing my adventures in parenting and offering words that I hoped they could find comfort in or encouragement in. 

I indicated that while one of my cracked pots was there at Bald Eagle, at home life was not smooth sailing, as there were still 7 hot messes that lived at home with us.  An over planner, a three toe tree sloth, one with self esteem issues, one that is content to be a fence sitter, an artsy fartsy, a young adult with the mind of a 2nd grader and a brilliant frustrated child learning to work and live with autism. 

However, what could I expect from these hot messes, since they are being lead by a flaming hot mess, the queen of the cracked pots, ME!   I cry out to the Lord at the end of the day often asking him to throw me a bone that I can hang on to, so that I know I am making a difference in their lives, and while sometimes that bone comes in the form of a note from camp or a teacher at school or a kind word from a neighbor, more often than not I met with silence.  It is in the silence that I hear from the Lord. 

I am reminded that I am a broken cracked vessel but that Proverbs 3:5-6 says "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, do not lean on your own understanding. In all my ways acknowledge the Lord." When I do things my way - I mess it up - but when I trust God I know that cracks and all, God is going to use me for his glory. 

I am reminded also, that my kids are also the same as I; cracked and broken vessels, yet Psalms 104: 24 says "O Lord how plentiful are your works!  In wisdom you made them all, the earth is full of your creatures."  Myself and my children are all God's creatures and we are all different.  I am rejoicing in that, because how boring would our world be if we were all the same! 

I know that my God doesn't make mistakes!  The scriptures are full of stories of men and women that were less than perfect and God choose to use them, despite their flaws for His glory. 

Often times when I look in the mirror I am overcome by my flaws, I am overwhelmed by the flaws in my children, but God made them the way they are (or allowed them to develop the way that they are) and that is not a mistake!   If I could snap my finger and fix them, as a mom, I would.  But I trust that like God continues to refine me, He is at work in the life of each of my children.  Often times their actions cause consequences, but life is learned most often not by telling or living by example, but first by making mistakes and learning from them. Some of us have to go through the struggles multiple times til we get them message, but know that God is not going to give up on us! 

Finally, I shared the Cracked Pot Story.  It goes like this:

A water bearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of the pole that he carried on his back to and from the stream to his master's house.  One of the pots was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk form the stream.  The second pot always arrived half empty. 

For two full years this went on,  with the bearer delivering only one and half pots full of water in his master's house. 

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end which it was made.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream,  " I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." 

"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" 

" I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because of this crack in my side that causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws you do not get the full value from your efforts." the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot and in his compassion he said "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path." 

Indeed, as they went up the hill the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. 

But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure. 

The bearer said to the pot, " Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the the path, but not on the other pot's side?  That is because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back to the master's house you have watered the plants.  For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table.  Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house." 

As we all progress through life, with our unique, but not surprising cracks and flaws, God is going to use us all...  For His Glory!  


Insert large sigh here --- God's thoughts for the evening delivered, by me a cracked and broken pot! 

Dinner was wonderful!  My son served me.  We got our photo taken, we laughed, shared stories.  He wrote me a wonderful letter thanking me for being his mom, and asking forgiveness for the times that he treated me "like crap".   He hand crafted two intertwined cedar hearts and carved our names in them, Grumpy and Mom...

Do we have a long way to go... you bet.  But is there progress, Oh my yes! 

After 20 months we are now closer to graduation from camp than ever before.  Grumpy is strong and healthy, growing taller with every session.  (as evidenced by the fact that his list of needs before returning to camp Tuesday includes 2 pairs of shoes, pants, socks, etc... )  He is healing, he is sharing and he is learning to trust.    And I rejoice that God made him just the way he is.  No mistakes.  Flaws and all. 

I applaud the boys that attend this camp.  They live life out loud.  Their struggles unlike ours that we have learned to clean up or cover over and mask from most of the world, are out in the open for everyone to see.  Out in the open for correction, directions and instruction. 

I applaud the families that make the sacrifice to have their boys there - they are working hard on the home front to pay for this camp, sacrificing time and energy to see that their boys get the care that they need to heal and grow.

I applaud the camp staff and their families for their compassion, love of the Lord and their desire to stand in the gap for all of us parents who's boys are there.  The job is hard, round the clock work, living outdoors, 24 -7 to ensure that life lessons are learned, taught, followed up on, re-taught, re- learned and re-enforced daily.  Sometimes at the sacrifice of their own family time and commitments. 

May the Lord continue to bless this organization, it's efforts and the campers past present and future.

This is life...and you really can't make this stuff up!

Bashful's Work Ethic is Lacking

At the end of my day yesterday, I arrive home with a lot on my mind.  Getting dinner started for the kids, organizing my time until I need to leave at 5:30... and as I enter the kitchen, and drop my keys and phone on the counter, I see spread before me on the 12 foot kitchen table a huge MESS... and a small dwarf whirling around creating.

I inhale deeply, approach the yellow headed dwarf and ask what I think is a very simple question..."What is this big mess?"  (for anyone that had little kids in the early 90's, said in the voice of Molly and the Big Comfy Couch, at the end of her 30 minute show, when she looks around and raises her hands and says: "who made this big mess?" )

Sheepishly Bashful looks at me, places a hand in the air and says, "I am making fish.  For a project.  At school.  I know what I am doing! "  Okay, maybe he does know what he is doing, and maybe he has a plan... but the next question is "when is this due?" 

Drum roll please....  Tomorrow!  "What, I say, you have got to be kidding me.  When did you get this assignment?"  "two weeks ago mom." " Do you have the instructions for this project?"  "No, I don't need them, I know what I am doing." 

I instruct Bashful to stop creating and go get me the paperwork that describes the project.  He digs for a long time in the folders and binders in his backpack, finally withdrawing a goldenrod sheet of paper that has more creases and folds than a ninety-five year old, and with a dramatic flare, produces the directions, simultaneously pronouncing : " See, I know what I am doing." 

It turns out that this project, which was due the 28th of February (even though he claims the date was changed to today the 5th of March)  is an elementary exercise in magnets and or electricity.   Insert head scratch here - what do I know about either of these things?  and on such short notice - NOTHING. 

But in Bashful's defense, he had this !   Once he enlisted the help of the whole family, to procure, bobby pins, magnets, fishing line, poles, scissors, a box from the trash, glue, and construction paper... well viola... a fish pond, with fish that were attracted to the magnet on the end of the rod, with questions about magnetics and electricity on each fish.

Did he complete the project to the extent that it was supposed to be done, I can not vouch for that.  The basics were in place.  As a procrastinator, he needs to learn a valuable lesson about planning, and working ahead and this may be the perfect way to learn that lesson.  Did he give it an A+ effort - nope.  But will he most likely get an A for effort yes, and overall after the deductions for the missing parts I say it was a solid C project. 

While this situation has probably happened at your house occasionally over the years, and the result of throwing something together at the last minute may vary from house to house...Your really can't make this stuff up... 

What is it like to not be able to communicate?

Often we may wonder things like, what is it like to have a broken foot?  What is it like to be invisible?  Or what is it like to not be able to communicate with the spoken word. 

Well Happy, has been experimenting with each of these the last several weeks much to the confusion of the staff at his school. 

Two weekends ago we had a pile of homework to do because Happy determined that he would be invisible.  Hence rendering all his work invisible too.  (I can't seem to understand why his curiosity about things always ends up causing me angst.)  However, we determined that this was not the best format for pretending and that while he enjoyed "not being seen" he really was causing his staff to have to do additional work, via emails to the house, the staff follow up and then falling behind in his work.  In the long run, he determined, on his own that invisibility was not his thing !

Prior to that, he drug his foot behind him for a day.  Insisting that the night before he had sustained an injury on the trampoline that we refused as his parents to address.  He talked the staff into propping up his foot on a chair and surprisingly skipping gym class.  He was a very convincing lame person.  However, when the truth of that pretend session came to light, the deal was that he forgot his locker combination for his gym locker and since his gym clothes were locked inside the locker, he knew he would otherwise get in trouble for a)not dressing for gym and b) having to ask multiple times for the combination that was alluding him, so the lame routine was his creative out.  Since then we have addressed the combination issue by placing it inside his main locker, on a paper in his backpack, on a paper in his gym bag, and in his communication log as well as taped to his desk... No more fake injuries to avoid gym class for Happy!

SO fast forward to yesterday.  He pretended all day that he had lost his voice.  His team leader even questioned if that was the case because he stuck to the silent routine consistently all day - writing notes to communicate with the staff at school.  Sadly, a challenge for all involved based on Happy's inability to spell correctly.  When the Prince addressed this with Happy at home last night, Happy thought long and hard about what had happened during that day.  He responded that his reason for the silent treatment was that he wanted to know what it would be like to not be able to communicate using his voice.  The Prince then asked him if he thought he would enjoy spending the day pretending that he was blind...opps on the Prince's part,  because of course Happy thought that would be a GREAT idea! 

In all this we have tried to express to Happy, that curiosity is wonderful, and we would like to encourage him to explore these types of things, but in that  it has to be done in a controlled enviornment.  NOT at school. 

Anxiously waiting for the day to end, so I can go home and see what antics the dwarf was up to today.  Or maybe not... Really, you can't make this stuff up!