It was a 2 hour car trip to get there, but I took the easy way out, and just put the Taz in the car in his PJs, did not feed him or worry about brushing the teeth until we stopped at a rest stop about 90 miles into the trip. My plan worked, the medication patch had taken effect by then, and Taz dutifully changed out of his PJ's into his jeans and t-shirt in the back of the car. The dental hygiene was less than thorough, but I figured, it is only one day, perhaps his teeth will survive.
Once we arrived, there were forbidden foods EVERYWHERE. It seems that healthy runners do eat cake, and whoopee pies and cookies. Hmmm. Ironic.
Taz was unaffected by the temptation, most likely because of his Daytrana Patch, which virtually anihilates his appetite for at least 10 hours a day. This means we have to force him to eat.
So the beautiful cakes, cookies, and Whoopie Pies did not come in to his radar at all. He never once asked if he could have them, let alone so much as a drop of water during the whole 5 hour event.
However, he DID squirm, grimace, and cover his ears at the loud music, the balloons popping, and the gun shot that started the race. I suppose this is his still-present and dreadfully unwanted Moro Reflex, one of the six primary reflexes we so diligently strive to disintegrate by doing the eye and core exercises three times a day.
|Taz calmly pushed this one year old for 20 minutes, |
helping out with the younger children while
their parents ran the race
A few of his anxieties accompanied us, too. Within 5 minutes of arrival, Taz found a HUGE snake skin, resulting in avoidance of walking in the grass for the day.
The bee fear showed up when these tiny gnats (which annoyed everyone, flying about the head) finally won the battle: he refused to go out of the garage building. This was actually to my advantage, since I was assigned to babysit 12 children in the garage during the event.
I was reminded, however, of an incident that occurred 4 years ago, when I had attempted to bring the Taz here to Camp by myself. He was 5 and a half, and so active that he rarely stood still. Two hours after we arrived, there was a campfire, and it got dark. I turned around for 5 seconds to pierce a marshmallow to roast on the fire for S'mores, and he was gone.
We had 15 teens, and 10 adults looking for Taz that night. It took us 30 minutes, but we found him 400 yards away, behind the cabins, swinging on the Tree Rope (in the pitch black, alone). At that age, Taz had NO FEAR. He could outrun a Cheetah, and had the "night vision" of a bat. He also established a reputation of being "different" within hours of arriving anywhere we went with this type of behavior.
And so, today, I will choose to thank you, LORD for a few anxieties. They could save his life, or at least keep him within 50 feet of me. Thank you for medication, so that Taz is now calm, and able to enjoy babies and children younger than his age. And most importantly, thank you for molding Taz's servant heart, which demonstrated patience, kindness, and helpfulness today.