Once upon a time

Once upon a time, I spent most of my day managing a little man who struggled with a lot of things. I worried. I tried hard to make things easier for him and often felt I wasn’t able. I cried. a lot. Evaluations and IEP meetings ended in at least one of us crying. I wondered what life would be like years later–like in 2013.

And, here we are.

We tried soccer. No, I tried soccer–an attempt that ended in us dragging the boy to a field where he’d hover on the side lines and cry, begging to go home. He finally announced to his super attuned parents, “I don’t like team sports!” And, that was it.

I never would have guessed that his niche would be on the stage. I should have. I should have guessed when as a preschooler, he’d interact with people as long as he had a costume on. But, I never thought that the boy who still can’t remember his own phone number would be able to memorize lines and stand in front of an auditorium full of strangers and come alive as a character. And, I mean come alive.

He loves it. He loved the practices. He loved the set building. He loved the backstage prep. My boy with sensory issues abounding even loved the makeup and costume with a collared shirt no less.

Once upon a time, this mama doubted and feared and made assumptions about a little boy based on my own experience and expectations.