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.
He used the back of his hand to nudge the iPad back to me. It was his way of saying, “Get out here with that garbage.”
That guilt was because I was still learning the difference between hoping and needing. I was hoping my son would speak. As I’ve come to realize though, I didn’t need it.
Sensory issues or stimulation have nothing to do with it. This was my kid wanting what he wanted and whining until he got it.
My son may have never said a word to me, but we have spoken in so many more ways than that.
Those who treat him like he’s capable of anything will get the best him he can be.
In the end, I’m proud to say, no tables were flipped.
What followed was a barrage of sad heart emojis mixed with the occasional, “Stay Strong, Mama”.
This is the exact format of nearly every call. It must be in a handbook.