January 15, 2009 by Marj Hatzell
Bug Boy wears his heart on his sleeve, just like his Momma. I can tell when something is bugging him by his demeanor, by his behavior and by the look on his face. Let’s just say it is rather obvious when the boy has a tough day. And the past few days have been tougher than others.
We had a huge brawl last night, the boy and I. I was feeling like the worst Mommy in the world (and I was nominated last evening by the eight-year-old). As I tucked him in, I asked him what the heck was going on. I told him I could tell by his behavior that something was amiss. I just KNEW he had something heavy in that amazing brain of his. And this is what he told me:
I am worried that Bugaboo will never learn to talk. I wonder if he’ll ever be able to tell us anything. I don’t know if he’ll ever be safe or have friends. I am really worried about him.
You know, my kids are like two ships passing in the night. It’s tough enough to have one kid on the spectrum, but TWO? Whole different story. It’s almost as if the other doesn’t exist. The dog is a piece of furniture to them. If she moves, they notice, but it isn’t a big deal. If a brother is in the way, they just push and get to where they need to be. Except for the occasional food-stealing, they really don’t communicate at all. So let’s just say that when Bug Boy dropped that there bomb I felt like I was smacked upside the head. With a brick. A big one.
Why wouldn’t he be concerned? His father and I are. We discuss it often. What we’ll do, how we’ll react. How we’ll finally go on that big vacation once the kids are grown. We know we are in for a lifetime of care. The thing that we did not even fathom is that his brother would take on that responsibility. Bug Boy wants to care for his brother. He wants to take care of him when we are “old ladies and old men” and when Bugaboo is a “big man.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Bugaboo’s medically estimated adult size is about sixty-four inches. He won’t be such a big man. But I digress. Bug Boy loves his brother, feels responsible for him and wants to keep him safe. Do you know how proud I am of this boy?
Even when he does crown me the “Worst Mother In the World.”