It’s that look.
The polite one.
Watching him potter in his own happy world, completely unaware.
The something’s not right here one.
Glassy-eyed. Hitched-on smile. Invisible wall of keeping my distance.
This child’s not normal.
How do I protect him against that?
Will he remain blissfully oblivious?
How can I defend my own, strangle-held heart.
Posted in autism, kids, life, love, motherhood, observations Tagged autism, awareness., family, love, motherhood, protection
I sat and held his chubby little hand.
A snuggly dot in a nest of enormous teddy bears.
His lids drooped, tantalisingly close to slumber.
Then, snapping open and fixed on the middle distance, he grinned through streams and babbles of gobbledygook.
Tiny fingers caught my hair, reeled me close for hot little goodnight kisses.
My heart will not recover.
We collided in the bathroom, he and I, both blurry-eyed, jagged-haired, warm and smelling of sleep.
“When are we going to go into your bedroom with my brothers and say ‘happy birthday’?”
“Any minute now.”
He gave me a bashful smile. Seven years old. So
And he stood before the mirror and gasped.
With genuine surprise.
“Mummy… I’m taller!”
Posted in humour, kids, life, love, observations Tagged appreciation, children, family, humour, kids, life, love, motherhood, parents, relationships
He came out of playgroup as full o’ beans as he went in, Tiggered all the way home, and collapsed on the sofa.
“Can I watch a film?”
A Disney (almost unavoidable), the music began, opening credits rolled and the fairytale castle appeared.
As I walked away, his little voice announced, laden with excitement:
Posted in humour, kids, life, love, observations Tagged children, communication, family, humour, kids, life, love, motherhood, parents, relationships, toddlers
I am suffering from it.
He knocked on my door this morning, brandishing the money, chuffed to bits.
Later, I found him secreting it in his purse.
He looked up, his face suddenly twisted in anguish.
“You’re not the tooth fairy, are you Mummy?”
His gaze full of doubt and hope; my heart was too large for its skin.
“Sit down, be quiet and smile nicely.
Pass me that box over there, the one containing your autonomy.
have that. I’ll
And that one, the one that contains your thoughts. I’ll have
, too. that
We’ll just junk
that one, the one labelled ‘feelings’. You don’t need . them
I can think, feel and act
for you, hmm?
Now. Say, “Thank you”.”
I walk up to the door, repeating my lines internally, rehearsing.
I know my part now. Backwards and inside out.
Once over that threshold there can be no veering, no ad-libbing, no improvisation.
Should I swerve from my allotted casting, there will be bedlam. All other cast members will be thrown.
No-one will know who they are supposed to be.