Magical moments in parenting happen when you watch your child connect and click with another.
As much as I’m still complaining about not having a quiet break to myself during my time off work, it was nice to have given T time with his grandparents, Aunt and cousin in the East Coast.
He was particularly excited to see his cousin A, whom he last saw this summer.
The minute his cousin arrived, T and A vanished to the basement for hours.
I enjoyed popping downstairs once in a while and eavesdropping quietly at the door, watching T show off how good he was at the Nintendo Switch, with A watching over him.
The two provide an interesting contrast. A is three years older and taller. She is sensitive to noises, sometimes wearing noise-cancelling headphones, while T is loud. She is calm, he is hyperactive. She is polite, T can come across as blunt and rude.
And yet, they get along and he is fond of her.
One thing that upsets me about the pandemic is that T is missing out on social interaction.
No birthday parties, sleepovers, playdates – because of distancing expectations and general uneasiness from parents, including ourselves, for kids to gather with other kids outside of school.
Children like T struggle with social interactions and emotional regulation, so I feel like T is missing out on valuable practice with kids during pivotal years in his development.
This is reflected in challenges T is having with classmates, especially during recent weeks, and it weighs on my mind a lot.
So when I see T blossom and connect with his cousin in a positive way, it warms my heart.
Mind you, it wasn’t all pleasant. On their second visit, T had a full blown meltdown after dinner – over ice cream of all things – and the hubby and I put him to bed early while he screamed at us.
It happened on Christmas, of all days!
The wonderful thing with T is that every day is a new day and for their third and final visit together, T and his cousin had fun time playing together for hours.
When it came time for them to leave, I could tell that T was processing his sadness. He kept pacing around and when it came time for them to leave, he gave A a big tight hug.
Earlier that evening, he asked if his Aunt and cousin could visit us – and he was delighted to learn that they planned on visiting next summer.
He also told the hubby and his Aunt that he wanted to marry A one day. For T, marrying someone is an innocent sign of love and affection – rather than anything creepy like those Lannister twins on Game of Thrones. But I did joke with the hubby and his sister that T and A technically aren’t related by blood because T is adopted.
After they left, T retreated to the basement and started crying, saying that he missed A. It was both heart wrenching and touching. All we could do was hug and console him and remind him that he’ll see her again in a few months.
In moments like this, I think about how nice it would be for T to have a sibling. He would be a great brother. It’s too bad the hubby and I realistically can’t take on another child, especially if they require so much from us like T does.
When we returned home earlier this week, T told the hubby that he was no longer going to sleep in our room with us at night.
The hubby asked him why.
T said he needed to practice sleeping in his room by himself again so that when A visited, she could sleep in his room with him.
Later that evening, as T laid in bed and the hubby and I were downstairs, T yelled out loud, “How many more days until summer?!”