Every Time

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One of the hardest parts is seeing other children on the playground and their ‘normal’ families. Children the same age who can talk, play and all that. Parents talking about what this or that child did and I’m there thinking about how many of those things Michael cannot do. I’m trying not to but I’m thinking of them.

I’m also trying to help Michael play with the other kids if he feels like it, but I’m not sure I’m helping because there are so many things I have to tell him not to do, like walking too close to them and looking at them like they were strange creatures from Mars. Or just going around making strange noises.

I can’t really tell him not to do it because he doesn’t understand much of what I am saying, but I’m afraid he understands enough. He understands that there is something he can’t do or isn’t allowed to do, at least in his own way, although he wants to.

So I want to help him to have some kind of relation with other children and prevent him from making them angry at him or afraid of him. And by doing that I may also make him hesitant of trying to play with them, because he doesn’t understand why I am restraining him.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I guess the upshot is that I can’t help him without also taking something away from him. But it would be worse, if I didn’t try to guide him. It’s cold comfort but there it is. It’s what I have to take. Every time.

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