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“There…in the…wa…wa…water was a boy.” My youngest son struggled to read the sentence. Again. I tried to encourage him, my heart sinking. “Good. Keep going.” As he worked harder than any eleven-year-old boy should have to just to read The Story Of Ping, I thought to myself, “Surely by this time next year he will…
My eleven year old son was asked by his occupational therapist last week, to draw a picture of his least favorite thing. “It’s crowds,” he said. “I hate them. I can’t think anymore when there’s a lot of people. It makes me really anxious.” As he drew several stick people, all with evil eyes and crazy…
“Look what I made for you, Momma!” I started to tear up. My ten-year old son had been in the hospital for several days and was very, very ill. But one of the things he looked forward to every day was participating in “art therapy.” “Here you go. I know you’ll want to frame it.” He…
When my son was in preschool, he carried a particular book around with him all the time. In the car, to the grocery store – he even slept with it. It was his favorite book. It had beautiful pictures of animals, and little interactive boxes and slides. He loved it. Now, that little boy is…
We spend a lot of time practicing reading with my ten year old, dyslexic son. Ask him about it and he will say that he works hard, but his brain just really doesn’t like to read. Ask him what his brain does like, and his first response will always be P.E. His second answer? Math….
I was cleaning the bathroom, when I heard my children giggling with delight. Not just a little laughter – no, the sweet sound of two little boys, genuinely giggling and having fun together. I smiled to myself. One of my favorite things in the world is that sound. I kept scrubbing (because bathrooms and boys…)….
My ten-year-old, already in tears and frustrated beyond belief, took the paper and tore it up. “I don’t want to do this,” he said through gritted teeth. Although my blood pressure was starting to spike, I said as calmly as I could, “That’s fine. If this seems too difficult today, you don’t have to do…
When I was in seventh grade, I made a salt dough map of Italy. My uncle helped me. I remember carefully forming the mountains, painting the sea, and painstakingly placing all of Italy’s major cities in their correct locations. I had never done anything like it before. And I never did anything like it again,…
This post contains affiliate links. Thank you for supporting my family! My dyslexic son feels like his mom is always treating him like a baby. And the truth is, there are times where I necessarily have to. His struggle to read effects his interactions in the world every single day. And I am the one…
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