When You Wish Looks Could Kill (or at least do serious harm)

I was reading Kari's post this morning and it made me remember an incident years ago with C. I thought I had blogged it because I remembered typing it out. Turns out it was years before I started blogging but I thought I would post it today. This was back when the only official diagnosis we had was ADHD and we were about to get the Tourette's diagnosis.

September 24, 2004

I am a mother now. After much soul searching, treatments, agony, despair and hope I became a mother. And as my son learns and grows, so do I. Nothing could have prepared me for motherhood, nothing could have prepared me for this wonderful energy force to take me on the most amazing ride of my life. It’s exhilarating, it’s exhausting, and it’s beyond mere words.

Yesterday a boy at C’s school called him crazy. Worse than just hearing about it I witnessed it. As C comes around the corner to join the boys at the monkey bars, the brother of one of his classmate’s yells, “watch out guys, here comes the crazy kid”. Of course he didn’t notice me about 30 feet away but his buddy next to him did. As I approached I yelled “Hey, why would you say that to him?” In a way I have to give this kid credit (or is it lack of upbringing?) as he stood his ground and looked at me and said, “then why does he do those things?”. 

How I wish I had the perfect pat answer all ready for this kid. I waited a moment (giving the kid the evil eye) and said, “because he can’t help it, his brain and his body don’t always work together. But that doesn’t make him crazy; it just means he sometimes needs extra help. Why don’t you try to help him out instead of picking on him?” In some after school special that kid would have apologized and become my son’s staunchest supporter. Instead, he shrugged and walked away. I bumped into his mother a few moments later and shared the story, and she did much the same. I guess I know now where her kid gets it.