I may regret what I’m about to put in writing, but this past 4 weeks has been the most peaceful and pleasant we’ve had in the last 3 years.
In the last 3 years. 3 years.
For 3 years, Connor has been irritable and moody. That’s a long time to walk on eggshells, friends. A very long time.
For 3 years, Connor has been the boy prone to aggression. Not random, out-of-the-blue aggression. It’s always in response to a real or perceived injustice or slight. A toy taken, a rule broken, an unkind word said…things that would be met with a push, or a hit.
3 years of bad reports. 3 years of punishments and consequences. 3 years of various therapies. 3 years of wondering if we were failed parents.
4 weeks ago we stopped one of the medications, against the doctor’s advice. 4 weeks ago the irritability subsided, the aggression stopped.
For 3 years, Connor was defined a certain way, put into a certain category. Now he must be redefined, recategorized.
2 weeks ago, we went to a picnic at the park. Connor saw a little girl on the swing. He went up to her mother and asked to push her on the swing.
A strong breeze would have given her a harder push.