Attempt to become BFFs with the office receptionist in the hopes of snagging an appointment with the specialist who can't see your child till 3017.
Start feeling guilty that you're not going to do all of the exercises the therapists recommends the second she tells you them.
Hoard stuff from restaurants and stores. Those short, stubby pencils at IKEA: perfect for grasping! Burger King straws: so wide and slurp-able and in very attractive red!
At night, sit on couch or at kitchen table and stare vacantly into space for fun.
Curse at forms.
Surreptitiously sneak glances at other babies and children in the mall or park to see how they are acting and behaving, how their hands and limbs are moving and other stuff you shouldn't be comparing but do.
Use a variety of exaggerated facial expressions and gestures around your child: frantically shaking head = stop kicking the back of that person's seat; frantically wagging hand in front of mouth = please quit asking that guy where his hair is; frantically wiggling eyebrows = DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.
Get perturbed with the insurance company staffer on the phone who asks for your ID even though you just punched it into your keypad. Because: You are going to get ticked off at her anyway, might as well start.
Gird yourself for IEP meetings as if you are going into combat.
Act like absolutely nothing is happening even as your child is having the meltdown to end all meltdowns in a public place.
Sense that someone is about to shoot your child a dirty look and head them off with the evil eye.
Sit in the car on some random street, your child asleep in the back seat, and have a good cry.
Go to the drugstore to pick up meds and roam the aisles for a half hour. Just for fun.