Ok, couple of things. Becky, I fold my small wrappers into tiny pieces. I think it's soothing. I also tear my straw wrappers into tiny squares. You're not OCD. (Or, maybe we both are!

) Second, MIL's job is to make you miserable. And to make you defend your parenting skills. Nothing better than the Socratic method of parenting, "Know thyself". Reason #458 why I married a man from another country. In Laws are thousands of miles away. Yes, I did plan for that.
Now, Mechurchlady, not to open a can of tacky and let it spill all over the place, but I did read a few pages of the thread you are in and I have to point out a few things. Are you really going to be upset by someone who has, for lack of a better term, a woman simulating a pole dance with a broom as a signature? And in that same vein, are you going to let people who's primary discussion involves jello shots be the deciding factor in what kind of experience you have? Seriously? Sister, I say life is just like High School- it's just that the kids are all older and fatter, and in most cases, much more angry. So if those Divas are cheerleaders, then come hang out with us nerds, because chances are none of us did that crap in high school and we certainly are too busy for it now. When you are trying to relive the Glory days, you tend to miss the beauty of Now. Booyah! (If some of my tacky leaked, please clean it up. I'm closing the can.)
By being an observer of Group Think, I can tell you that unless you are adding on to the topic or pumping up the others, then stay away, because really perky people turn nasty right quick when they see "weakness". Like a lowly worm in a yard full of crows, they'll cut your head clean off. Lay low when you are feeling vulnerable. They'll see something shiny and get distracted soon enough.
OK, now on to Now. I took DS to a Brass concert yesterday. There was also a choral group singing. It was broken up into chunks with four Brass numbers, three songs and so on. So DS is sort of tired on the way there because he had been so excited all weekend about going, plus it was 4:00pm and he didn't take a nap. We sit in the third row, front and center. No one sits in front of us. DS is happy through the Brass parts. Then they start singing. He's yawning. He falls completely asleep by the third song. He wakes with a start at the clapping. He stays awake for the next Brass group of songs. Then they start singing Southern Folk Hymns. Midway through the first song, he's snoring. I'm trying to wake him up. The singers are about 15 feet in front of us, and passing out is So Rude! For three songs, every time the crowd starts clapping, DS leaps out of his chair and starts clapping. One member of the Brass band, a cute red headed man, sees this from his chair and starts laughing. So I start laughing, covering my face. By the end of it, several women in the choral group are laughing, too.
Yet another day of the crazy lady and her strange son, making memories and living life the way it was mean to be lived. Good news, though. One of the band members is a French Horn teacher and said he would try to give DS lessons. He said he has one Aspie student, who is the best student he has because he picks up everything so fast.
