"7:00!" Max tells me and Dave. We have just asked him if he'd like to take a walk with us. Except, he's reminding us, at 7:00 he has a call with his camp director and friends. Oh, right.
This happens constantly—Dave and I lose track of the time and the day (I've taken to saying that every day is MondayTuesdayWednesdayThursdayFridaySaturdaySunday) and Max is there to remind us that he has a therapy session or a virtual meetup, or that he needs to get his homework done. One time, he reminded us that he hadn't showered the day before.
Max is really coming into his own during the quarantine. He's guiding/bossing Ben around more than usual and making sure he doesn't get into trouble or hurt himself. (Ben retaliates by flushing the toilet when Max is in the shower). He's offered to help with laundry, a first, then asked me to tell his teacher about it as he wants all the props. He is the only person in our house who shows appreciation for my cooking—he actually gave me a hug last week for a lasagna I made.
While we haven't gotten into how many people are getting the coronavirus and the tragic number of deaths, we have talked with Max about the sickness that's happening all over our country and the world and how we are staying safe at home. He asks how his teacher and classmates are doing when in their virtual classroom. When we go out for walks, he asks about wearing a mask; we walk on a golf course with nobody else in sight so it's not necessary, but I got fabric ones to put on once we start going out to stores again.
Max is well aware that there's a crisis, and he's doing his part at home. It's yet more proof of the many level of smarts that people can have.
This morning, there were crumbs all over the kitchen floor. Max picked up the Dustbuster, quite the fine-motor-skills feat, and handed it to me.
"I'm strong!" he said.
"Yes, you are!" I said, and I meant it.