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poop beetle: my son, Haaris
7.2005
"Hey Buddy, you like pie?" (this from my son, Haaris).
"What?"- I ask this partly out of habit. I can never anticipate what this child will say to me and even when I do understand, I find the need to stall for time, figuring out how to respond).
"Pssh!" Haaris says and pretends to hit himself in the face with an imaginary pie.
A big part of my mother's heart wells with pride and awe over what a kick-ass kid this odd, confusing child is- another part of me hesitates, gets tense- because I have no idea how the next bit is going to go.
"Harry, sweetheart- you've got to take your medicine. Come on, kid. Come on baby. Let's do it. Ready?- Let's go. Come on- let's do it blah, blah- painful blah ".
Harry kicks everyone's ass. It wouldn't be so surprising to say he kicks his mom's butt. I am a little bit of a door matt- everyone who knows me, knows this- especially regarding my kids.
Thank god (well, not really- only if you're H.'s mom and suffering from exstreme fear and low self esteem about your parenting abilities)- he aparantly kicks everyone elses' ass too.
Honestly, I'd be way fine if he only kicked my ass, with his interactions with the outside world working smoothly- for real, I'm all kinds of willing to me Ms. Long-suffering mother of difficult children. I will even admit to pride and happiness (I was a very well behaved kid myself- easy, non-demanding, often intimidated/cowed)- I would prefer my kids not to be that way. I see some health and goodness in feeling the right to demand what one wants from the world.
Haaris is somewhere around two feet tall and weighs about as much as an akward bag of dog food and yet he weilds the power to put the most educated, experienced, and well paid care child care provider on edge.
He says "hey dude". He says "give me a break"
"Ask me a riddle"- he challenges when I pull him out of stuff he shouldn't be in to.
"Turtle! You're going Down!" he crows at his brother before taking a flying leap and literally knocking his brother to the ground.
His awareness and grasp of charming, ridiculous modern speak has convinced me he's not autistic- although most of what he says seems to come out of no where.
"Want to be my Valentine?" he asks me- handing me a sticky note covered with a quick scribble.
"Dinner? Dancing? Tisk, Tisk?- (that's the sound one would make if they were trying to get a horse to move, OR were some rakish man about town, winking and winning over friends)- I get this as I'm sitting on the toilet and Haaris has busted in, dancing around in front of me.
I feel a little bad talking about what can happen when one has a baby, when there are those out there who have just given birth or are about to. Sometimes babies grow up to be insane human beings.
You love them, you like them, you are charmed by them- but at the same time there is a hell of a lot of fear.
Likely all new parents and new parents to be out there will be excellent, skilled parents.
But- If a baby child with a variety of difficult genes shakes out, just remember- even Albert Einstein freaked out his parents.
