Another few days and another few bajillion meltdowns.
Yes, we're seeing the psychologist and, yes, we're doing as she suggested but these meltdowns are coming thick and fast, faster than before, and the screeching, grunts, hand flapping, tip-toe walking and ticcing is getting worse.
Just as well we did warn the new neighbours about him losing the plot; it's become a regular thing ...go introduce yourself to the new neighbours and warn them that you really aren't making sacrifices at the full moon each month, it's just the feral offspring having yet another meltdown.
Oh, and ignore the swearing, we'll try to keep it to a minimum.
Although it can be very cathartic to let rip.
My beautiful, clever and cheeky boy breezed through his maths, literature and science this morning, slipped in a meltdown of medium proportions before heading out to an historic tour of the Royal Melbourne Hosp as part of History Week.
Had a wonderful time, took many notes, came home and promptly imploded from stress and anxiety.
Going grey and borrowing the Tourette's to let rip?
Yes, I am.
Join in with me and you, too, can enjoy the soul-reviving pleasure of screaming swear words at the heavens.
Ok, that'll just be me baying at the moon, then *snort*.