The Invaders

Dear Diary,

I bet you thought you’d never hear from me again, huh? Figured that like so many others I’d started writing to you with the best of intentions and then thrown you aside for something more interesting or less brain intensive.

Au contraire, Diary. Au contraire.

What had happened was that I discovered those things mama was calling thunder thighs had the power to take me places. Diary, I learned to walk. And soon after, I learned to RUN. As you can imagine, priority had to be given to intensive investigation of my surroundings and methods for raising mama’s blood pressure; things like climbing furniture and slides at the park and making a break for the outside world at Target. Oh, sure, sometimes gravity got in my way or a wall punched me in the face, but mostly it’s been smooth sailing.

So anyway, I really am sorry if you felt like I loved you less. I thought about writing to you often, but then there was a ball I needed to chase, or a kitty I’m sure needed my love, or a container I needed to fill with something.

Today I’m writing you to tell you about The Invaders. Diary, I’m concerned. Mama keeps letting them come into our house. The doggies think they’re ok, but they also think eating cat poop is pretty awesome so I’m not sure how much I trust their judgement anymore. The Invaders come in the morning, and they travel in pairs and groups. Diary – they make me do things.

The first time they came, it was no big deal. They wanted me to stack some blocks and show them where to put a circle in a puzzle and stuff like that. I don’t know when adults got so lazy that they figured toddlers should do their work for them, but there it is. I schooled them. But then they came back again after the snow was gone and when I SHOULD have been playing outside and Diary I won’t lie – I was mad. Really mad. They wanted me to do their work for them again and damn it Diary I didn’t want to. Put Cheerios in a water bottle and dump them out? Stack the same four stupid blocks? Show you the sun in a Baby Bop book? UGH. So I did the only reasonable thing: I threw all their toys on the floor and I yelled for mama to hug me so I could pet her hair to make me feel less mad. And after that I cooperated a bit but only because I was on mama’s lap. The Invaders always leave after a while, Diary, but this time they sent back different Invaders.

The Invaders that came last week seemed more ok. They arrived while I was playing outside and I pointed them out to mama to warn her. She seemed friendly with them so I thought it would be ok if they came inside. These Invaders came into the living room and one sat on the floor with me. I had to hide behind the couch for a few minutes and watch her like a hunter stalking prey, but Diary she had some pretty cool toys. In the end I came out and played with her. I guess she doesn’t have friends her own age. Some of her games were stupid, like putting a plastic baby in a bucket disguised as a fake bathtub. What that bucket really needed was balls, so I started gathering all of my balls and putting them in there. The Invader kept taking the balls out, and she even put HER balls away. She obviously didn’t understand the correct order of things. Diary, I gently corrected her by putting her balls back in the bucket six times until she gave up and put her fake bathtub away entirely.

Mama barely paid me any attention the whole time because she was talk-talk-talking with the other Invader. I went over a couple of times to pet her so she’d know I was still there. I didn’t want her to worry, you know?

When she finally finished talking, and the other Invader had packed up her toys, both of The Invaders put on their Serious Grownup Faces. Then I knew I’d get bored so I went and got the iPad to play some Mr. Potato Head – that guy is hilarious. I sort of listened to what The Invaders said to mama. Most of it was BLAH BLAH BLAH, but then I heard them tell her something really important:

Finn is awesome. Except they said it wrong (why do grownups get everything wrong?).

Finn has autism.

And then, Diary, something great happened – mama made me lunch, and we took a nap.