Oooh, we had a lie in. You started making waking noises around 7.30, though Mummy was of course knackered still after a night where she was ill and couldn't sleep till 2am.

We played a bit of the channel hopping game on the bed, though your eye contact wasn't excellent, it was just regular. There were a couple of tears when you pressed 9 on the lift instead of -1 and a couple of seconds grizzle when Mummy disappeared. You did say "Mummy gym" though, which was sweet, because she went to work and you recognise she is coming back. The hysterics of old have one it seems. Hopefully for good. We headed to the park (without the water!!!) and you were quite resistant to the notion of playing in the park. Odd. But this time I was insistent, I'm convinced you are better when you get that energy out of you. And I was right.

I read in Greenspan's Engaging Autism that I should try and encourage circles of communication too, Dania told me to work on it. One of the problems I have with the book by Greenspan rather than the method is that it is directed at caregivers with children of all levels of functionality. He spends a lot of time (so far at least, I'm on page 80) explaining how to get that wall down for the first time, getting some response. My problem is I can't give you enough response, you are constantly asking for interaction, for participation, and I can't give you enough. The communication is to get something very much on your terms but there is a constant search for me and my help. Something very positive.

So I put you on the swing. And you said one, so I said two, and you said three...and I said 123, and you said 124. And then we went back to one, and I threw some wrong numbers in, and you carried on to 40-something, then we played another game where I had to imitate your tone of voice exactly or you would just repeat the number till I got it right. You didn't accept me saying twenny-two, it had to be twen-tee-toooooo. Twenny three was banned, it had to be twenty three. But we must have had 500 cirles of communication before we ran over to spit some water from the fountain on the grass. And almost every time I didn't give you the number till you made eye contact. We're getting there, Khamudi Sheli.

After an hour and a bit of running, swinging, sliding, and playing, we jumped in the car, you played with all the buttons and tried to drive. Very sweet. And we got home, you ate your cornflakes (despite asking me for either Toast & Cheese or Pitta Cheese as we pulled up - as if the message isn't being made loud enough GIMME GLUTEN GIMME MILK!!!). And then your eye contact and co-operation were excellent. There must be something in that early exercise thing.

Eye contact was excellent after the park. I need to make sure you get that energy out of you early. Oddly, your mum rang to announce that everyone on the ASD forum has a trampoline slap-bang in the middle of the lounge like us!

An interesting thing happened today, confirming my suspicions. You have a problem with whirring noises. You said as I put the soup in the blender "Oh no, noise". I stopped, and didn't blend it smooth. I made a chocolate cake today, from Good For Me! and I needed to put it in the mixer - the look on your face when you saw it in the oven! - and you said "lots and lots of noise" and "very very noisy". This is despite the fact that I was doing it in the bathroom behind a closed door. We'd seen a motorbike accelerate this morning near the park and you said something similar. Your mum remembers you reacting terrified when you heard the hoover when you were very small. We'll have to pay special care with this. Though you didn't scream or anything I'm fully aware that your senses are very different to mine...heaven only knows what it sounds like to you.

Another thing I've noticed is that you don't jump and flap your arms when you are excited or stressed almost at all in the last couple of days. It was something you might have done 20 times before 9am before. You have done it maybe 3 times a day since we started the intervention. It is a huge thing for us as well as you. It makes life so much easier to manage, it gives us a chance to finish something before sorting out something you need. I don't want to get carried away, things can change very quickly but if I don't blog things I won't remember how they were exactly. Not everything is perfect. Not every parent is sitting there, as I am, making plasticine numbers that perfectly correspond to the numbers of buildings visible from Mummy's office to home (5, 7, 9, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 15...) - I am not kidding myself that it is normal. But you know, I would be more troubled by having to play dolls and get excited about pink frilly dresses.

There were days when you didn't say anything that wasn't just echolalia. You scripted Titch or Thomas The Tank Engine or some such program. I remember saying a few times that you hadn't made one relevant comment all morning, despite being very vocal. In the last few days, there has been significantly less scripting, repetition of TV shows and other things you've heard. You are still humming a great deal, and giving running commentaries of everything you are doing (currently you are saying bath, or rather 'ambatiya', as you fill the bath. But it is like you are at least a bit more in the world where I am, rather than another one. I can hear feet splashing. Is that a good thing?!

...Ok, we got soaked! Still, that is what a washing machine is for. I read an interesting letter and an article by a woman from Massachussetts called Judy Converse, a child nutritionist. She argues that the link between vaccinations and autism is clear, though many people will argue against it, because no scientist has confirmed it. She talks of peer review growing to confirm the argument, and more and more people talking of diet helping kids with ASD. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. The world was flat once. There was no such thing as bacteria. The Sun revolved around the Earth, God created everything and there was no evolution. Stuff like that. Then one person came up with an idea and people adopted it and it became common belief. I think that is where we are. I think autism is definitely in the gut, your gut was weak, like your mum's, maybe mine is too. You didn't cope well with milk when you were breast fed, and maybe one day they will tell all parents that reflux is much more serious than it is, and maybe they will come up with a plan to protect the gut because it screws up the brain. And one day, those people who can't think out of the box, who continually tell parents that this kind of intervention is not based on science will understand that no parent would do any of this if it is wasn't working or worth it. But they do do it, because everyone around them, those in the same boat, almost universally agree that it is worth doing - or they don't agree because they simply don't know anything other than what they are told by the scientific community. And, while we are at it, the reddy-black rings round your eyes are clearing up and your poop has the most solid texture I've seen.

We went out to play football, you insisted on taking all 4 balls with you. Obviously, I thought we were going to the grass downstairs. You took me on a hike to the roundabout, through the tunnel to the basketball ring. At that point you decided to head on your usual route to Safta's, via the puddles, with all the balls left behind. I tried to get you to come back and you didn't want to and when I caught you you had a mini-strop. The first I had seen for a few days. And then, after I collected the balls, and explained to you we had to go home, you had another because you wanted to stay out. It made me think...you're nearly three, and you have ASD. Are you allowed tantrums? Are they always to do with you having autism or can you just be three sometimes? One really strange thing happened though, I'm not quite sure what to make of it: a car wanted to park in the drive of a house we were standing front of. You stopped, and said 'assoor' - 'stop' in Hebrew, thrusting the palm of your hand out like a policeman.

I was terrified of you falling asleep in the car at 6.30pm when we drove to get Mummy, so I gave you an apple, knowing well that this would probably be enough for your tummy and you'd never eat when we got home. True enough, though you did make it to the bath and didn't just want to get out straight away.
Today's food:

Breakfast: Large bowl of Adama cornflakes and Natura Rice Milk. A banana and date smoothie.

Snack: A kiwi fruit. Freshly squeezed orange juice and some Prigat Diet Grape Juice.

Lunch: You ate it!!! Ok, it was pancakes with jam on, but you ate two and a half, and I know it was a cheat, but I needed to have some success. The pancakes were from a pre-bought gluten-free mix by a company called Good For Me! - a pack makes two or three portions, so I have saved some of the batter in the fridge.

Snack: Half an orange (spat out two segments, odd odd odd, it was your favourite and you did the same with the clementine last night), so you came and asked for an apple instead (you turned down my offer of a pear instead of the apple). And you had some chocolate cake with chopped almonds thrown in. It was a success, you had my small slice too. It's a good thing. I really don't think I will ply you with snacks and sweet things, but let's get past this stage, your taste buds will be doing all sorts of things over the coming weeks, I see no point in trying to force you to eat something might be asking or begging for in a month or two. Even on this diet, with the refusals you'll eat healthier than most kids.

Dinner: An apple. Oh, and you pinched another bit of cake!