Kindergarten
It's after midnight. In less than seven hours, I have to get up, all bright and shiny, so I can get my kid ready for his first day of kindergarten. Why am I awake? I'm scared. Scared sick for my little boy. I know he's going to have a hard time. I know he's done a lot of growing up this summer, but he's still got Asperger's, so the underlying problem is still, well, the underlying problem. He still has a tough time with transitions. He's still a drama queen. He still doesn't understand that wearing all your emotions on your sleeve just encourages the kids to tease you.
I wish I could tell myself that he'll be just fine, like other moms can do tonight.
I don't know that.
I know I've done everything I can. I've tried to work with him. I've met with his teachers. I've prayed. I still feel like I've failed him. I still feel like I'm letting him down.
I still haven't figured out how to stop crying and get some sleep.
I wish I could tell myself that he'll be just fine, like other moms can do tonight.
I don't know that.
I know I've done everything I can. I've tried to work with him. I've met with his teachers. I've prayed. I still feel like I've failed him. I still feel like I'm letting him down.
I still haven't figured out how to stop crying and get some sleep.