|This is overwhelm.|
If something does not feel right, he melts into a puddle of a boy on the carpet. He cries. He yells. We offer comfort. We offer juice. Anything we can think of. But he just cries. He wants to be held. Tight. Every other thing seems shadowed by special needs for an afternoon, a day. A week.
Ray and I have to protect our time. Most often life is just kinda regular--you know, our own version of normal--but we never know when our "special needs" guy is gonna really ramp up the "needs" part. We need to team up, or risk feeling raw and resentful by the end of a rough day.
No child deserves resentment from his mommy or daddy.
Of course, having less of an emotional filter works the same for happiness. And that is the plus side of it. Spontaneous and indiscriminate Joy. To experience a tackling kind of hug, and an "I wuv you, Kimma!" and kisses. To hear him tell his little jokes and just laugh and laugh until tears come to his eyes. "That's si-wee!" he says.
|Did you ever see a smile so bright?|
There are moments when Charlie does something we did not yet know he understood. His little face shines and shines at his own learning. Ray and I glance at each other as we witness this cleverness right before our eyes. It feels like a miracle every time, and the thought comes to mind: What would we do without him?
Not sure exactly what I am trying to say here. Just, I "wuv" these boys so. I'm ready for the return of more cheerful days for Charlie (he's been sick... and needy). And if the baby's two top teeth would just pop through those swollen gums already.