He Loves You Kiddo
He loves you kiddo. I know it’s hard to see since he doesn’t care too much to play with you.
Closing in on 5 years old, and missing half your school year, you need a lot more socialization than you get from a brother with autism, work from home dad, and the homeschooling/teletherapy/snack juggling mom.
You often ask why your brother doesn’t talk or play, won’t ride bikes, and tears down forts once you build them. I overhear you trying to play, and I can’t truly describe what it feels like when I hear you speaking to him like a BCBA; giving him choices or encouraging him to complete tasks.
I do know he likes to be close to you, parallel play in a sense, and he knows when you’re not right.
It was early one afternoon, I was sitting on the living room floor. Your brother was lining his Sesame Street characters up on the kid table next to my head. All the fun in the sun was catching up, you were so overtired and today was not your day.
You were whiny, and then you broke down because you couldn’t find your sunglasses. You stumbled over to me in tears, collapsed in my lap, and just lost it. You continued to ramble on about how you only have two pairs of sunglasses and both were gone, sobbing as if you had lost a pet, not like you had misplaced plastic Elsa sunglasses.
As I rocked you, brushed your hair back and reassured you we’d find the sunglasses, your brother stood up. He pointed at us and said “Rock-a-bye-baby”. I said, ‘yes, buddy, this looks like rock-a-bye-baby.’
Then he walked towards us, stopped overhead, pointed down and in his broken words said “a make yeeya appy”.
He was trying to say “make Leah happy”, implying why is she sad, how can we cheer her up? I looked up at your brother and said, “yes, make Leah happy. She is sad”.
Your brother then proceeded to squat down next to you, and leaned in until the crown of his head touched your cheek, which is his way of leaning in for a kiss.
“Thank you buddy, for giving your sister a kiss, and helping her feel happy again.”
He looked at you one more time, rose up on his tiptoes and let out an elated “Happy!” before heading back to his table to continue lining up his toys.
I looked down at you, and I squeezed you tighter into my chest, kissing the top of your head. I just sat there for a minute, pressing my cheek into your sweaty mop of curly hair, glancing over at your brother as he quietly teetered all twenty one of his plastic Sesame Street figurines on the edge of the table, completely unaware of how truly profound the moment we just shared was.
We have made strides in quarantine. It has not been easy, and not without its many moments or questionable lows, but what just happened reassured me that it was going to be ok. That home is his safe haven, he loves the people who share it with him, and he may not always acknowledge our presence or emotions, but he knows. And my heart knows he knows, and that’s all that really matters.
Written by, Jill Logan
Jill is a self proclaimed left hand-turn, road less traveled kinda gal. She’s a wife, momma, animal and ocean lover, and is always on the go!
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