Today at Mass, which we were late for as usual, Perry was uncontainable. I made it in to the pew and within seconds he was screechy. So up I went, to the narthex. He quieted down after a few minutes, and I said “Do you want to go sit with Malcolm?” He nodded, so, in we went. We sat down, he lay on the floor, tried to go out the aisle on his belly, and began screeching again when the kneeler was lowered for the Sanctus. So, out we went. Narthex was pointless since he was SO LOUD, and it was too cold to stand outside, so we went to the car.
I fastened him into his carseat so he wouldn’t be a wild animal ravaging the van interior, and he calmed down fairly quickly. But I didn’t. For some reason I was overcome with sadness. Sometimes that happens to me these days. So I sat there in the van with my most voliatile (neurotypical, probably?) child and wept. I touched his little head, because I love him so, so much, and cried.
He regarded me, a bit puzzled. “What you doing, Mama?”
“I’m sad, baby. Mama is sad.”
“You be okay, Mama? You need to wipe you eyes.”
“I sure do love you, Perry.”
“I wub you Mama. Kiss?”
Well of course.
So then I still felt sad, but I sure do love that boy.