So maybe I don't always go into Awards Day with the best attitude. I mean, I appreciate the idea of rewarding accomplishments and noting things that are notable. Thing is, my kid isn't going to get most improved. He will probably never be the best citizen in the class. And, his Christian attitude is easy to miss when it's camouflaged by his personal space issues and his tendency to say whatever's on his mind regardless of whether it's appropriate or not. He won't even have perfect attendance since he misses an hour every Wednesday for speech and OT (even though we get up extra early that day so he can get most of it finished before his classmates are even done with breakfast).
Sky's accomplishments are no less noteworthy than his classmates', though he will probably never be rewarded for them. He interrupted his teacher less this year. He had fewer meltdowns and panic attacks. He started to better grasp the concepts of personal space and turn-taking in conversations. He didn't hate school.
I know I'm supposed to take solace in the fact that he's making progress, but it's still hard to sit through Awards Day and not daydream about how things could be different. Part of the time, I find myself wishing Sky's struggles didn't distract from his learning experience, and part of the time I wonder if he has some hidden untapped genius like the Indiana kid who turned out to be an astrophysicist. I know I'm being ridiculous and that I just need to keep encouraging Sky's strengths and helping him overcome his weaknesses, but sometimes it's hard to stifle those thoughts especially when award-day activities slip from the first hour into the second one.
Fortunately, it seems like whenever I find myself obsessing about these things, Sky turns around and does something that reminds me we're doing okay as his parents.
Today, it was this:
|I love two things about this picture: the sense of perspective and motion, and the fact that the guy in the picture is making a Japanese sound effect when he flies through the air.|
|The good news is the robot seems to have an on-off switch. The bad news is that I have no idea how Sky knows the "I believe I can fly" reference.|
|This is where the story initially ended, but I had more work to do, so I encouraged him to keep going. You can tell me whether you think it was a good idea. Also, in case you're wondering, the X's on the eyes are never a good thing.|
|More X eyes and smashed buildings.|
|Notice the bird on this page and the one before it?|
|I kinda love this alien. It's as if he's a cross between Gumby and the Marshmallow Man from Ghost Busters.|
|But he's totally bad ass.|
|Even when running away.|
|Of course he was.|
|Of course he did.|
|Of course they did.|
|I had to ask about this one. Apparently this little robot can only shoot from his feet. You'd think that might be a disadvantage.|
|But it turns out it's not.|
|I don't know about you, but I think the ME illustrations might add a layer of meaning that wasn't entirely intended.|
Before I had a chance to post this story, Sky went to speech and OT and wrote this addition. I really heart it on a number of levels:
About the Author
Sky grew up in [small town, state] with his family. He loves robots and is always curious about how they work. He loves to look at the detail in explosions. He likes to hear them too. He also loves to build and draw; that's why he made this book on June 3, 2013. He also has autism. He never lets autism get in the way of things, even though it's hard sometimes. Autism has made him really good at some things too, especially drawing. He made more books and comic books, like "The Wagon" and "The Wagon 2 Weirdo." He's very good at origami. His dad named Ren is Japanese. His mom Moe is American. He lived in Japan for a few years when he was young. He loves the trains in Japan, almost as much as he loves robots!