Someday, You’ll Tell Me
Cooper, this morning was just like every other morning.
You woke up happy as usual. Had breakfast, got dressed with Dad’s help, put your shoes (all by yourself!) and your coat on, negotiated 75 treasures to bring to school, and then you were gone.
I yelled ‘I LOVE YOU’ ridiculously loud and stole a hug and 3 kisses before you darted out the door. Y
ou grunted in response like you usually do. I then asked you to repeat ‘I Love You’ like I do every day. You willingly try.
So far you have the ‘I’ down. I firmly believe in my heart that one day you will say it back to me. Or use a computer to say it. Or write it.
Either way, I will get my ‘I Love You.’
But then you were gone with dad.
Nothing unusual. It was a normal morning.
Except I find myself sitting here feeling sad today. Which typically doesn’t happen for me.
But see, last night was a big night for you. We visited The Holiday Train.
You went with Dad and I. No brothers. They had a babysitter. You got to get all dressed up in your winter clothes and go for a ride all by yourself with us. To do something we thought you would love.
Trains. Christmas lights. Music. All of your favorite things.
We showed you a video so you’d know what to expect. You’ve actually went before. 3 years ago. It was bad news bears. To loud. To much walking. Your crippling anxiety took hold of you and refused to let go. It brought you to your knees. But not anymore. This year we were hopeful.
We talked to you the whole way. You were so excited. At least we think you were. You were quiet of course. Not much to say. But you’d grunt. A ‘yeah’ here and there.
But when we parked, you dove out of the car. DOVE. You were excited. I think. You ran to the train. You pointed and gasped.
You stayed for 10 minutes which was long enough kid. It was -2 degrees. BRRRR. Then you said ‘H-OOO-M’ and we were done. Just like that. No ‘I loved it’ or ‘that was so fun’ or ‘I want to come again.’
Your dad and I feel like mind readers sometimes. We think you loved it. We hope you loved it.
When I tucked you in last night I asked if you liked the train. I got a grunt again. I tried talking about it but you rolled over. You were busy I guess.
I want you to know son that I spend so much of my time worrying and wondering. Are you happy? Are you feeling well? Are you nervous or anxious or scared? Is someone or something hurting you?
See, I’d never know. And some days, that makes me a bit crazy. But good crazy I guess. I just love you so much.
Today, as I sit here, I am wishing you could tell your therapists about the train. And the music and lights. And our stop at the grocery store. And your new Peppa the Pig magazine. You had a big night.
But I know you won’t. It’s just another day. A normal day.
Someday. I believe that someday we will talk about stuff like this. I pray. And I hope. And I wish.
Until then, love you kiddo.
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