I wake to the sounds of my Aspie boy getting into things. Again.
Sorting that out I climb back into bed again – hoping for a few more minutes please.
At breakfast he pours himself a massive bowl of muesli and argues with me. Again.
Feet in places they ought not to be. Fingers touching, poking, prodding, annoying, hassling; reminders to leave little brother alone. Again.
Little brother speaks and big brother gets fanatically picky. Again.
How many times can you give a child time out before they grasp why? I don’t know but we did it. Again and again.
Sent to the bathroom to wash hands but found five minutes later almost climbing the basin. Again.
Leave your fingers alone please child. Stop picking the skin off your toes. Again.
Frowning, over-reacting to every little thing I ask. Again.
Why God, why? Again. Help me to have patience and understanding again.
Little brother in my lap. Sweet smooches and snuggles. Delicate butterfly kisses up and down my arm. Again and again.
Big brother watching quietly. Then holding his arm out as if he were the lady, “He’s like a French man,” he observes as he mimics a kiss on his hand. Next, his best French accent with nose high in the air, “Mah-dom!”
Laughter, so much laughter. Again.
Now, your turn…