I sit here, watching him. He's standing next to the rocking chair, hanging over the arm towards the seat, contently rocking himself lightly with one foot, while the other remains firmly planted on the ground. Gnat's out of sight, but I can hear him bouncing a ball just on the other side of the couch. I'm unconcerned. The room's child proof as much as it can be without ever teaching my kids something can hurt them.
Bug's just rocking away, though, watching TV on this lazy morning.
I still feel the shame of yesterday clutching at my chest, but I thank God for letting me realize it immediately. Yesterday we received the findings of the occupational therapy we've been going to for the past six months. Out of four short-term goals (should have been completed within the six months), and four long-term goals (anticipated to be nearly a year to be met), we met one.
Originally, that was a dejected we met one. Just one. And then I thought about years of school. Years of report cards consisting of A's and B's and one C and that one C my mother just wouldn't let go. It was in that moment God opened my eyes, and I saw it. We didn't meet one. We met one!
Thank you, God, we met one of his goals! HE met one of his goals. Bug did it. He can tie shoes four out of five times unassisted! UNASSISTED! Suck it, society! HE MET ONE!!! *Cue internal dance party*
We still have bad days. Hell, we still have awful days. But you know what?
He met a goal.
My son, A the Awesome.
Bug's first name starts with an A, just a quick BTW about this post, lol.