When a neurologist looks at your kid and asks, “You can’t straighten out your fingers, can you?” you wonder how you have been so blind for eleven years. When he looks at you and says, “Well the first thing we look at when evaluating children is their faces, and you can see that your son’s mouth is turned down and his facial tone is low” you wonder how you, a freaking speech-language pathologist, have been so blind for eleven years. He’s your kid, not your patient–different rules apply. As do blinders apparently.
Until recently, I thought my son was lazy. He never wants to do anything hard or anything for long. When his strength or endurance was challenged in the smallest way, I often rolled my eyes or huffed a little “come ON” and called bullshit. Son, I am so sorry. I’ve apologized to you for it, but I can never take it back. He tried to open a bottle of juice today while I was in the living room. When I happened back into the kitchen a short while later, I saw him still sitting at the table staring off into space (not an unusual occurrence), so I asked what he was thinking about. He asked if I’d help him open the juice. I must’ve had that look on my face for a split second, because he fired back “I DID TRY ALREADY” before I even opened my mouth. Yeah, honey, I know you tried. I’m so sorry. We want you to try as hard as you possibly can at everything you possibly can for as long as you possibly can.
PS–I couldn’t open the juice myself without a rubber scrunchy dealio and a serious amount of elbow grease. Stupid Mott’s.