Compassion and Gratitude

"WE DON'T HIT! REGGIE, STOP IT NOW."

Me. Yelling. At someone else's kid. In front of them. At a Cub Scout meeting!

What is the world coming to?

Well, this little fellow needed a wake-up call of some kind. He simply wouldn't respond to regular instructions to stop hitting while playing with NJ.

These two have known each other for years. They've wrestled for years.

It's the nature of their relationship. And that's totally cool.

I think "guy stuff" is required for any kid to develop semi-normally. And frankly, wrestling often breaks down into fisticuffs when you're a little boy and you don't know boundaries.

But normally, that kind of ends by three or four.

Reggie is seven going on eight. And even though NJ was actually getting the better of him in terms of wrestling... Reggie continued punching and kicking at NJ as my son pushed him back and laughed at his outrageousness.

Well, eventually he moved onto to his mother, a friend of NJ's mom and a very sweet lady.

I could hardly bare to watch, and in fact would later intervene.

But not before I took NJ and Reggie outside to run off some steam.

Sure enough, they get 30 feet away and commence the wrestling. And sure enough, Reggie starts punching again. When I saw him swing and hit NJ in the face, I pretty much went into my Exorcist voice and physically pulled Reggie to one side.

"I told you to stop. Don't you EVER touch anybody in my family. EVER. If I ever hear about you hitting NJ again, if I ever see it again... (My mind rifled through the legal calamity that might befall me were I to lay out my next line, so I toned it down)... Something bad will happen to you."

And I left it at that. And I separated the boys.

And STILL the kid kept trying to go around me to reengage in the shenanigans.

I was gobsmacked, to quote Gordon Ramsey.

Clearly, the child has no sense of proper behavior... to the point that he will simply defy a rather large, and totally pissed off, daddy who is threatening him in an obtuse but fairly assured way.

This was not the first time it has happened.

Later, I talked to him mom, telling her I had to separate them physically. Telling her I had to raise my voice at him. And listening to her explain what's been going on...

"This year, his teacher says he's not talking to anybody in class. They say he knows the math. He's like three grades ahead. But he doesn't do it. He doesn't like the assignments." Etc.

I noticed during speaking with other adults that the Den Leader continually pointed to her nose to try to get him to pay attention. His eyes almost never met hers.

Hmm. Do we have another Aspie on our hands here?

Suddenly, my rage at this little guy had morphed into compassion. There was, and is, a definite "issue" as they say in the medical parlance.

Until now, his mother and father have been adamantly anti-drug... anti-therapy... anti-... well, anti-anything, if it involved admitting that Reggie's lifelong behavior strangeness might be something with a diagnosis.

But the first signs of a correction for Reggie's issues arose during our conversation.

"He's going to go into Mrs. Roberts group this year."

The lady in question is one of the most amazing, effective and compassionate people NJ has had the chance to work with. She runs the social group he goes to a couple times a week at school. He loves her, and she seems to genuinely enjoy his company too.

This is a great sign. They're opening up to the possibility that Reggie's problem could have serious consequences - socially and developmentally - if not addressed asap.

I pray that Reggie gets some help right now. No waiting. Puberty is just around the corner, and when you get there, you're lost. It's over. Interventions don't take when all you can think about is hiding the evidence of masturbation.

I have definitely seen Reggie on good days. Sometimes, he behaves admirably. But apparently this is getting worse, not better.

We were able to give her sound advice on who to talk to for a good eval. We listened, we totally related. We went and found Reggie and gave him some big hugs, which he actually seemed to enjoy.

In the end, I simply said to myself: "Thank God NJ's mine." I felt very gracious. I almost always do when it comes to that lad, but I can see that there are people who are earlier on in the struggle than NJ now...

I can see that every single kid has his foibles. None of them are perfect - well, they all are, but you know what I mean.

And most importantly, we had a chance to reach out and, hopefully, help just a little.

Ski to Hot Chocolate!

What does the title of this post mean?

Not much. Unless you happened to be standing in line at Sierra-at-Tahoe ski resort last week.

That's where NJ spontaneously broke out into this refrain. It's a silly little song he began singing. And we all joined in. Sure, it was repetitious. But after awhile, you simply give yourself over to the absurd fun of it.

It was just part of a very interesting trip to California.

There, NJ learned that "family" meant more than his mom and dad and occasional visits from his Nanna and Poppop from South Carolina.

He immersed himself in an ocean of family craziness... and love.

In particular, he buddied up with my sister's daughter, who is one year older... and just as inclined toward the absurd.

They bonded instantly. And they played for three solid days. Intensely.

They traded video games. They played board games. They watched Up! (great movie). They played with Tank the dog in the garage, where he - a giant Lab - entertained them for approximately 20 minutes by eating an enormous, raw potato.

The house was full of holiday guests at that time. And Caroline, NJ's niece, was overheard telling him: "Don't you wish everyone would leave, so we could start having fun?"

She really does "get him" apparently.

To see NJ soaking up all the easygoing family love for days on end... and reciprocating... was balm for the soul. He snuggled on the couch with blankets, drank tea, watched football with Grandpa.

One night he took center stage. He stood in the middle of the living room and sang ridiculous songs to a rapt audience of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and a couple additional house guests.

He sat at the kitchen counter, gobbling cookies and answering questions. He warmed up to Grampa, giving him a big hug on the second day. He asked people how they were doing in the morning.

And yes, he spent plenty of time in the bedroom playing his computer games, too. (I don't underestimate his need for decompression time, especially amid a new and busy environment, no matter how loving.)

It was, all in all, an incredible experience. NJ absolutely took to his giant extended family in Northern California. And they absolutely fell in love with his amazing little personality - his self-assuredness. His absurdist sense of humor. His gentle, seven-year-old love. His penchant for singing silly songs and monologuing about video game adventures.

My favorite moment: having to tell him, rather lamely, to "calm down". He was dashing through the house, back and forth, amid a game of hide and seek with his cousin. But they were both laughing too hard, and having too much fun, for me to say it a second time.

Peace.