Thursday, March 25, 2010
Being a California boy, Henry was 18 months old the first time he noticed rain. That morning, as I carried him to the car, a few light drops fell on his head. He reacted by screaming for about 20 minutes, holding on to his head, unable to, what they call, regulate.
I can usually predict what is going to set him off, but I've been wrong more and more often lately. Which is great. Last night in Denver, the snow started falling around 6 pm. As I carried him to the car, wondering how he would react, the soft big flakes fell all around his head and face, resting on his eyelashes and cheeks. He looked at me and said, "Wow."
Today our morning appointment at the Center was canceled due to the storm. This gave us time to do some good post-IHOP-suburban-suites-hotel-parking-lot-hill-sledding. He agreed to ride the hill with me after some convincing and watching Dad and Sister do it. Moving out of control at high speeds in cold, wet slush would not typically top Henry's list, so I naturally predicted screaming.
Instead, he was silent until we got to the bottom of the hill. Then, "Wow."
A wise friend told me to fight the urge to define what Henry won't do, wouldn't want, or can't handle. He'll let you know, he said. Let him show you what's possible.
So good news. At least for today, we can handle snow.
Posted by The Closet Idealist at 12:41 AM