It’s my edible nemesis and my new daily nightmare. Welcome to fatherhood, pops.
It won’t happen overnight for him. It didn’t for me either.
It was normal. It was natural. It was perfect. That’s the truth.
For the parent to a non-verbal child, social pleasantries can take on a different feel. They may be social, but they aren’t pleasant.
Sometimes he would look at me. Sometimes he wouldn’t. Still, I’d go on and on about what this person did or what that person said.
The more he has learned to use his communication device, the more he has been seeing it as an easy way to score pizza.
He has to know how to respect others, to the best of his ability, and interact in a way that can ensure he will never be wanting for his basic needs.
He collapses into me. Like a melodramatic actor from a 1950s stage play, he will fall into my arms while weeping over being denied a loaf of bread he tried to steal from the kitchen.
It’s easy to forget to make the memories when you’re busy running ragged into the ground.
An outburst like that is the last step of his ultimate frustration and he does it only when all other avenues of communication fail him.