It seems like I've been in a rut.  Get up; go to work; come home; go to bed.  Oh, and somewhere in between find time for my family.  I need more weekends like last weekend (time spent with my family at the Autism Walk).  Weekends like that make everything seem worth it.  I just have to keep reminding myself that this is all for a reason.   I may forget what that reason is from time to time, but it's still there.  It comes in the form of my family.  Nothing means more to me in the world, and I remind myself that whatever goes wrong; I still have them.My son does have a growing fondness for chocolate.  We were at a restaurant, a few days ago, where my wife and I were sharing a dessert called "death by chocolate".  For all the chocolate lovers in the world, this is the closest thing to bliss I think there is.  Anyway, we let Harrison (my son) have a go at it, and he did his best to help us finish it off.  I think he had just as much of the dessert on his hands, face, and even in his hair than he got in his stomach.  He was "double-fisting" handfuls of the dessert.  At first, I wasn't sure about it all.  But then it turned to comedy.  He just couldn't get enough of this dessert.  People sitting around us took notice, and they were laughing too!!  And when all that sugar took effect, he just about lost his mind.  We were lucky the restaurant was situated in the middle of our local shopping mall (the one with the play area I always go to), so we ran him around the mall to work off some of the sugar.  In theory, that idea was going to work, but long into the night, when my son was stil awake, my wife and I retrospectively rethought the idea of giving him so much chocolate.  The first thing Harrison said when he woke up the next day was, "I want cake."  I think we've created a monster!!!Last night wasn't as good though.  It was a fairly difficult night.  After we got Harrison ready for bed, all he wanted to do was to look out the back door and stare at the dog (and laugh while yelling his name).  Nothing we tried could redirect his attention to his bedtime routine.  Because of my job, I really didn't get to see him much, so I was getting a little disappointed that he really didn't want anything to do with me.  When I pulled him away from the door and tried to read him his bedtime books, he had a meltdown.  That was when he really wanted nothing to do with me.  I did do a good job of not letting my frustration get the best of me, and I used my favorite tactic for situations like this.  I picked him up (by the door), hugged and kissed him, and told him that I loved him.  I also told him it was time for bed and took him there.  When I layed him in bed, he started crying even harder.  After shutting the door, I stood there for a minute and listened to him.  There aren't many more difficult things than listening to my son cry in his room.  I really wanted to go back in his room to comfort him, but I realized that may have made things worse.  I just had to let things be, as difficult as it was.  I just had to remind myself that I knew my son still loves me (and I love him) and he couldn't really help things.  I can't wait to see him tonight!I take him to get diagnosed in three days (this Friday).  I am VERY NERVOUS about everything.  Part of me still wishes that nothing is wrong with him, but then I realize that there is nothing wrong with him.  He is who he is: my son.  And there's nothing that any doctor, psychologist, neurologist, or any other type of "ologist" could say that would make me love my son any less.  My fears are for my son and the lifelong difficulties and frustrations he could face.  I will always be there for him, not out of a sense of duty or responsibility but rather out of a sense of love and compassion.  It's what being a good parent is all about.p.s.  thank you to those who sent me Father's Day wishes!!