I walked the Boardwalk with Carson for a field trip this week.
Since I didn’t think he would be able to walk from the Inlet to the end of the Boardwalk and back, I brought along a couple books I thought we would need to pass the time while his classmates walked.
It turns out I ended up carrying the books in my bag the entire way because they weren’t needed. Once again, my special needs son continues to impress me at nearly every turn and confirm it’s dangerous business to underestimate him. He had no problem at all walking the five miles.
When I would ask if he needed a break, he would wave me off like I was crazy. Instead, he insisted we focus on the scavenger hunt of local businesses created for him. When I told him the Kite Loft was a few more blocks north of where we were, we picked up the pace until he found it. Before I knew it, we were touching the yellow dot at 27th Street and he was ready to head back. It was all I could do to convince him to have a drink and get his picture taken with classmates.
Before the field trip, it was one of those instances when I was slammed at work and was stressing about missing a few hours in the middle of the day. I always come back to the thought that years from now I’m not going to recall what had me so swamped at the office, but I will remember walking the boards on a field trip with my son when he was 8 years old.
Carson has always been a hand holder. It’s a security thing for him I think. In this case, when I tried to get him to walk a little bit without holding my hand because we both were getting sweaty palms, he signed that it helped him. I’m not sure what he meant by that, but there was no way I was not going to insist otherwise if he needed a helping hand.
What’s amazing to me about Carson is there’s something inside that drives him. He has a tremendous sense of self-motivation. He’s the hardest working kid I know. He has a tireless work ethic that can be seen across so many levels. When he sets his mind to something, whether it’s finishing a word search, memorizing the state capitols in a weekend, touching every brick in brick garden or walking the entire Boardwalk, he will stop at nothing to meet his own goal.
That’s why I know he will speak someday. It’s important to him. With his will to work, his parents’ commitment and the great speech therapists we work with in and out of school, it will happen. It’s just a long-term process that requires patience, support and understanding.
People often ask me how Beckett, our so-called normal child, gets along with Carson.
There’s no easy answer to that. I often answer it’s complicated. It’s a day-to-day thing.
In many ways, their relationship is very much like that of other siblings only 19 months apart. They bicker, argue and get on each other’s nerves at times, but they’re close to a degree in that we do a lot together as a family.
Beckett, like his parents, can read what’s on Carson’s mind without him saying a word. He knows his areas of strengths and weaknesses. He often can be a big help to us with him. For example, when we are out to eat and Carson demands in mid-meal to sit in a Beckett’s chair for an unknown reason, Beckett will read the situation and just give up his seat. If Beckett were to say no, and who could blame him, a tantrum would likely be coming from Carson. Nothing good happens when that occurs. Beckett is well aware of that.
What’s different is we can’t let Beckett and Carson go run around the neighborhood together or even play in the backyard by themselves. They’re just too different as far as expectations and behaviors.
I think Beckett will do anything to protect his brother, but I also know he has some resentment toward him. If the three of us are in the backyard playing football, it doesn’t go the way Beckett would like oftentimes because I’m constantly distracted by Carson. We have to cater the game to Carson so he can be involved.
One morning during school drop-offs, Beckett was clearly antagonizing Carson. He was grabbing a hold of his cheeks and rubbing their noses, saying “this is how Eskimos kiss.” It got Carson quite fired up and he was acting too aggressive, which is the last thing we want to do on a morning when he has school.
Beckett’s ride from home to school is a grand total of two minutes but it’s always an eventful ride. When I dropped Beckett off, I told him he can’t get Carson all riled up like that every morning. He replied, “but that’s my time to have fun with my little brother.”
That stuck with me throughout the day. I considered it profound. Between Beckett’s sports and Carson’s therapies, they rarely hang out during the week. When I asked him about it later, Beckett deflected, asking where Carson was. I reminded him he’s been in bed for an hour.
