The only thing better than being a boy obsessed with Lego, and having a new Lego to put together…
is when your sister, whom you adore, suddenly, inexplicably, begins sharing your interest with you.
Here they are, beginning to work on one of Seth’s Christmas presents. We like to space things out. Save some for a snowy day. Seth is so happy she is playing Lego with him. Letting him lead. He is the Lego expert you know.
In other news, Riley hugged HT the other day. She is not a cold unaffectionate person by any means, and always allows our affection, but it was the first time she spontaneously hugged him, and he could not wait to tell me. It’s one of those things an outsider just does not get. If you were hanging out with us, you wouldn’t assume she’d never hugged her dad on her own before. It would be a given for most kids.
My dear friend’s husband died when her son was just five. She says, one of the hardest parts has been…the feeling of there not being another person who knows stuff like this. Shared intimate moments about your kid. Only Todd and I know what Riley looked like the morning when she was six months old, and he returned from a business trip and we lay in bed, and she showed him how she had learned to clap while he was away.
Only the two of us remember when Seth used to say, Yi Yuv You Yie-yee, (I love you Riley).
So when he tells me she hugged him, I get it. The depth of it, reflected in the glint of his eyes as he smiles.
When she shares her brother’s interest, we know what a big deal it is.We’ll remember it.
The gift of autism, for us, is we don’t tend to take things for granted.
I mean, sometimes we do, but typically we don’t.
She makes our lives so much richer.
Just ask her dad.