Really. There never is a dull moment. When I think there may be one, the ensuing tornado of boyness makes me think no wonder they were so quiet.
Today we have 6 and 8 year well checks. This time last year, we were just beginning our journey to an ASD dx . Now, we’re there, in the thick of it. We are dealing with issues for the eldest that both make me chuckle and cringe. He’s expressing disappointment and anger in ways that make his life harder. That’s the crux of it. It’s harder for him. I hate that.
Meanwhile, the wee one is enjoying school so very much. I’m proud and shocked. This is the kid who said he knew enough after preschool and that he didn’t need kindergarten. It’s fun to watch him love school. Isn’t that what kinder is all about. Instilling a love of school. Everyday, he’s so proud of his behavior, his newly acquired sight words…he is so enthusiastic.
I had a minor (not really. At the time, it felt major) heart break yesterday walking in to our parent teacher conference. I don’t know if I’ve blogged about how at the end of last year there was a child who would taunt the eldest. Everyday. When I was there looking on. This child. This child calls my boys name. When my boy doesn’t answer, he continues calling. Then calls him a crybaby. He did it yesterday as we were walking down the hallway. I’ve never wanted to pick a child up by his shirt collar so badly. It hurts. It hurts me. It hurt Cheech. This child. He is so lucky that the “wee” one didn’t beat him up. Chet looked at him…in the eye…and said very calmly (that eery kind of calm he could have only inherited through genetics from his father) “Don’t you. EVER. talk like that about my brother.”
Did it hurt me? Yes. Did it hurt the wee one? Yes. Did it hurt big brother? Nope. Did he notice? Nope. I should learn from that. Words only hurt when you let them. He didn’t even hear because this kid isn’t on his radar. This child. Well, he’s in my sights, none the less. He doesn’t know yet the unsleeping ways of a mama bear.
We are ever moving forward, not having a dull moment. I know, when I’m old, sitting on my porch in my rocking chair, missing the tornado of boyness, I will look back and long for the days of never dull moments.
Autism In Our House 