life with the Wendling -- a case study

It's my night to bathe the Wendling, and I was a little unclear as to whether he wanted a shower with me as usual or a tub bath, so I asked him. He said he wanted a tub bath, and against my better judgment I ran one. Changing his mind is one of his autistic (or is it OCD now? See below.) quirks and has been for years, but since I'd already run the bath by the time he changed his mind, we parents insisted that he get in the tub. Oy, such a meltdown. I think it's beginning to dawn on him that choosing what you don't want makes no sense, but he can't seem to help himself. Poor little skinky boy cried most of the time he was in the tub. For once I felt more pathos than irritation.

The folks at school gave us the card of an OCD specialist who's had a look at the Weindling. I'll be calling him.

ATTN liberpolly and vorona: Seen on a bumper sticker among leftist stickers: He-ayin-mem am ha-Golan. Something people of Golan? What's that first word?