We went to our first, honest to goodness, at the park playgroup today. It went better than I was expecting, but not as good as I hoped.
I was really scared to death to go, up late last night stressing and then spending all morning thinking through contingency plans. Trying to come up with ways to keep him involved with the other kids, prepared for whatever terrain we’d come across, able to play with all the equipment, if it weren’t for the fact that the other moms are such wonderful, supportive, positive friends of mine, I probably would have just kept to my house.
Atti was a big fan of the swings, but the slide didn’t do anything for him. Of course, he could only go down if he was on my lap, so that takes a little of the thrill away.
I brought his little walker, hoping that he’d try to use it to keep up with his little friends, but instead he just got pissed off. He recognized that the other boys could do things that he couldn’t and it made him MAD. Head banging, full body fit throwing MAD. Which is good. I know him. This little guy is just so durned stubborn that he’ll get mad and then he’ll get to work. As we keep up with the playgroup, I think he will start using that walker more, and it will really aid his development.
But for today, I can’t really describe the pit that opened up in my stomach as I watched my child realize he was different.
It’s just my job to teach him that different doesn’t have to be a bad thing.