My beautiful, angelic four year old son. Brilliant, cuddly, inquisitive, autistic. He cannot communicate well, yet he constantly babbles and tries to communicate with and like us. At times he is calm. He will sit quietly by our side, watching and sucking his thumb. At other times, he is goofy, making faces in the mirror and dancing around. And other times still, impossible to reach and beside himself with frustration.
Lately, something’s been going on in his beautiful mind that I cannot figure out. His diet (gluten free and NO sugar) must be strict or he is like a person frantically trying to break out of prison chains. But his diet has been good – no bad foods for at least two weeks. Maybe it’s a growth spurt? Regardless of the trigger, he’s been different. And dare I admit, difficult. He has been easily agitated and frustrated. He throws things and actually looks for messes to make and things to take apart. Every place we’ve been, church, a store, the farm, park, family’s house… He has been upset. He acts frightened. Or frustrated. He cannot be calmed. I want so badly to know what’s going on inside him. I want to help him. I don’t know what’s triggering this elevated mood and it’s hard as the parent to feel so helpless. I want to scoop him up and hold him, but he won’t let me. I look into his eyes and he into mine… I know there is an understanding there that we will get through this. It’s just one day at a time…
This act of sweet brotherly love comes on the heels of missile-sporting cows and armed frogs.
My little boy, who just last year was the baby, is now a big brother (if only slightly) to his almost 9 month old sister. Tonight, in what I thought was an act of helpfulness as I prepared to diaper baby, he retrieved a diaper from the drawer. I said “thank you,” as I tried to take it from him. But he quickly tucked it under his arm where he also had his sister’s doll. In his budding two year old language, he said, “No. Mine. Noura.” How sweet – the doll seems to share its owner’s name. And with that, he plopped onto the floor. He carefully watched as I diapered real baby and then proceeded to diaper his baby ♡
My sweet little boys were at it again yesterday! Fortunately, unlike the poor cow of last time (I never could figure if he was strapped to explosives or just armed), this frog at least looked prepared to defend himself. The stuffed animal that usually finds himself part of a frog family tea party when picked up by my daughter, was yesterday the subject of military bio engineering. And I’m not actually sure if that’s a real term, but it sounds cool 😉
Behold, the pastel frog, plucked from a past Easter basket and ready for battle: