Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound – It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Superdad!
An amazing story happened today that I need to share. Now, the relationship between four year-old Mr. Sensitive and Hubby is best characterized by a series of power struggles or two storm fronts colliding – bam! Thunder, lightning, tornadoes. This is clearly a work in progress. We are actually working with a social worker and behaviour therapist for Hubby and Mr. Sensitive. It is not all bad, Hubby reads stories to Mr. Sensitive and cuddles with him every night. But when it’s bad, it’s really bad.
Mr. Sensitive has anxiety about many different things – the floor of the elevator not lining up properly, fire alarms, leaving our home to go out (but is happy once out). Mr. Sensitive also has free-floating anxiety that permeates his life, like a drifting fishing net; we never know what it will catch. He expresses his anxiety by screaming, crying, whining, clinging to me, running around and flailing his limbs, throwing things, and refusing to comply to get dressed, walk, or leave the van. It’s like trying to hug a hurricane.
Hubby and I always try to let Mr. Sensitive know what is coming up next, and always try to stick to that plan. We never make idle threats or promises. There are no “maybes” in our world – you do or you don’t.
Getting ready for school this morning Mr. Sensitive spied leftover Easter chocolate and asked if he could have it after he ate his eggs. I need to say that (1) – we never have chocolate because Little Miss Adorable has Prader-Willi Syndrome, (2) – Mr. Sensitive misses out on these kinds of treats, and (3) – we never do things like this. I said yes.
After rushing to get dressed I packed the chocolate into his backpack with an apple juice and explained that he could have it while he waited for the bus. (Kindergarten can deal with the sugar rush.) Mr. Sensitive was agreeable to that and happily put on his backpack and marched out the door. Hubby walked him to the bus stop.
Five minutes later I received an anguished phone call from Hubby – the bus was early and already at the stop, waiting for Mr. Sensitive. There was no time for the special before school snack! Mr. Sensitive realized this, started crying, refused to get on the bus and had to be forcibly placed on the bus by Hubby. Hubby felt sick about it – I could hear tears in his voice, “I didn’t have time to give him his chocolate, I feel terrible.”
Ten minutes later, I get another phone call from Hubby. “I was running late for work anyway so I drove to the school and met Mr. Sensitive on the bus at the front of the school. I opened up his backpack and gave him his chocolate.”
Sometimes, it really is the little things.