I’m happy to have my friend Kathryn from Singing Through the Rain here to guest post today sharing a precious reminder that our kids are who they are and they are special in their own ways…because they are OURS.
A few weekends ago I was sick and my husband took my son, Adam to Chick-fil-a to play in their play place. Later, when they both got home my son ran inside and immediately came over to where I was sitting. Like any mom, I was excited to hear about his trip. “Did you have fun?” I asked, knowing that my question would be met with silence. “What did you do?” And again silence. He just looked at me with that darling face of his as if to say, “Mom, if you only knew what I was thinking…”
When I stopped to think about it I was sad. Until he talks I will never know what he is thinking. I will never know how his day went, or who he likes to play with. I will never know his opinions and never hear the questions he wants to ask. Until he talks… Yes, I believe that soon – someday soon he will talk like normal children. His constant babbling proves that he will talk, but the frustration and disappointment of not understanding him right now, will always stay with me.
Several weeks ago, I was having a bad day – one of those days where everything goes wrong. Adam didn’t want to eat lunch, he just wanted to snack on potato chips, which if you know our situation is one of the handful of foods that he actually eats. The problem with this was that Adam wouldn’t eat the potato chips I set in front him. They were broken chips, and in his mind broken chips are not chips at all.
He refused to eat them, thus fueling my frustrations even more. I searched and searched through the bottom of the bag for a few chips that were perfect circles. Yes, these were the ones he was willing to eat. Any chips that were broken were thrown on the floor.
This is normal behavior in our house as Adam will not eat any chip that is not round, or any graham cracker that is broken and not square. I have gotten used to it in a way, but in a way I wonder where this search for perfection comes from. No matter the reason, I realize my son is different. He is special and these are the things that set him apart.
But the most important thing I’ve learned through all this? He’s not special because of Autism or SPD; he’s special because he’s mine.