The boy does not like sleeping on a camp bed. It took a lot of persuading to get him to sleep on a camp bed instead of a camping mat on the ground, despite how uncomfortable it must have been that first night. He refused to sleep in the designated area of the trailer tent, but also refused to sleep outside in his own little tent. HRH wanted us to erect his tent inside the awning. This would mean we lose half our living area. It took several hours to persuade him to sleep in his own tent, on a camp bed. And that was just the evening we arrived…
We have had flapping, grunting, whispering of his displeasure, odd noises (loud) and extreme anxiety over sitting in cafes and restaurants, or walking around, or… well, nothing really, either because HRH has an irrational fear of all cameras and CCTV, which in modern life in the UK during holiday season are unavoidable, or because he’s just… spinning out, in his l’il autistic way.
All this increased anxiety (over seemingly nothing) has meant he “can’t stop remembering” things from the past which have caused him anxiety (usually things that were Mummy’s or Daddy’s fault two years ago). And won’t stop talking about them all day long.
Oh, the joy of having my failures as a mother recounted to me, over and over, spanning several years. I won’t need to account for my sins when I get to heaven. HRH can stand beside me and he’ll tell God the whole, loooooong list. Bless him. I count it all as joy…
It’s funny when we watch The Big Bang Theory and see Sheldon behaving a certain way. It’s less funny when it’s 24/7 and it’s being done by someone with exponentially less ability (and yes, I do know what that means… Sheldon ain’t the only geek). Think adolescent with common sense/social awareness of a 3-year-old. It’s also not much fun now that he’s taller than me and at least as strong.
However (every thundercloud has a glimmer of a shimmer) he had a wonderful time at Scargill, thanks in particular to one very special lady, and I will write a post about that soon. Meantime this holiday has been much more wearing than simply being at home. Frank and I are considering calling it a day <sigh> but we’ll probably stay, because Tink and Squidge are having a wonderful time, and HRH has had some moments where he was happy and relaxed.
I am just thankful that he is as able as he is. I know some parents of non-verbal kids who find holidays absolutely impossible. And despite all the challenges, my boy is not just ‘special’, he’s marvellous. He has an innocence that is inviolable, and for that I thank God.
‘When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?’
Thank you, Lord, that you are mindful of my son.