Should I tell you about walking in to get the boys’ up and how I found Sam decidedly not in, but out of his crib and standing in the middle of the room — this despite a zipped-up crib tent? Oh, I know! How about the head-banging tantrum he had in the grocery store where I plied him with M&Ms if he’d just be quiet while the other customers in line glared first at me than tsk-tsked at his chocolate-smeared face? How about the inexplicable mourning, the loud wailing, as we sent “Mommy’s Car” through the carwash? How he screamed “No, Mommy’s Car, Come Here!!!” and then body-dropped by the window as we watched it enter the suds?
All are stunning events in their own right, at least in this mommy’s eyes. We have been getting some one-on-one time these days while John has his O.T. appointments. Some of it seems like typical behavior at this age: a tantrum in a store, (finally) climbing out of a crib. The hysteria about the car, though, hmm… not so sure. Sam is growing and changing so fast that I’m afraid I may discount his autism, or rather “forget” it when he still needs me to be vigilant, to always keep it under advisement when we’re out and about and he is not coping so well.
I sometimes look at his beautiful face, especially when he’s out of control — he’s learned to yell, truly a skill — and I’m reminded oh, yes, I did forget. And I feel sad that I’ve not remained on top of this, that I’ve put so much “high-functioning” on my poor son’s shoulders, all because he’s not AS autistic as his brother.
My Tuesdays with Sam help open my eyes.