![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLaQ6NH6sDmY1T2R1jIH8V9lvVwUa8iQOhbiec8HgI2Xce768ZnV3kGXAz-yywIiH8PZcpx9vqxN_2rWEX4gjRz4duto7CEwAPi8g1zXMaqSJJ3WvwlHa_4mlByPGpC4MLDsI/s400/September+090.jpg)
What does that mean for a typical child? It means the stars were aligned. They hit the home run, they caught the touchdown pass, they made straight As, they got the big part in the play or they made the honor roll.
It would be the icing on the cake. The topping of a day that already held promise.
For an A-typical child, the day starts out kicking and grabbing at the parent trying to gently pursuade them out of bed at o-dark-hundred. Protests ring out as he is lead into the bedroom to get dressed -
where he promptly bites my breast.
Hard.
Breaking the skin. Through my clothes.
After that it's a struggle to get clothes on him and then we go downstairs where he proceeds to scream and cry and carry on ridiculously about every single thing that occurs until the bus arrives.
He grabs my arms and pinches, he tries to bite his brother, he screams when the Wiggles go off the air.
And when he comes home, his notebook says "He was so happy all day. He had a great day. He followed two part instructions perfectly."
We jokingly call him a shark because he eats everything. I now have a bite radius for the marine biologists to measure, should they arrive.
He followed two part instructions perfectly.
If only one of those had been "Don't bite other people."
Having a special child is unbelievably hard.
Having two, is some days, unbelievable.
0 comments:
Post a Comment