Most of the time when I'm speaking to Nathan, I feel like it's very similar to this Gary Larson cartoon.
You don't get the tangible results from all that talking, lesson sharing and please stop putting your clothes on the floor and put them on the God forsaken hooks we put up there for that reason ranting. You nag, you plead, you cajole, you bribe, you reason. I sit and ponder, "Does it sink in? Is he getting what I'm saying? Does he really think that I'm just a crazy woman that babbles to him?"
*test pattern noise*
This morning after I walked Nate to school, a very young teacher came up to me and asked, "Are you Nate's Mom?"
Being a little taken back as I don't know this teacher well, and also because I haven't showered yet and no doubt look like absolute death, I say, "Yes.."
She said, "Well, I work with the intense special needs children here and when Nate is in the sensory room and he has been so sweet to the young ones, talking to them and helping them out. He is a very polite and fantastic boy. I have a son who is 3 and you always want to raise your boys to be, well, you know....good guys. You have one right there and I wanted you to know."
You could have pushed me over with a breath at that point. I was on the verge of major league water works and I managed to say, "I have always raised Nate to know that we are all different and we all have needs and to help people when we can."
I thanked her profusely and she went on her way. I walked home and immediately started to write this story.
I have tremendous doubts on a daily basis that I'm doing some sort of something wrong, that I'm not doing enough. This experience gives me faith that all the days and nights of routine and repetition at some point does make a difference.