Hi. My name is Ryan. I am four. I live in mommy's and daddy's house with my sister Julia and Helen the cat. It's dark out but daddy is in my room telling me it's time to get up for school. I argue my case that the sun isn't up yet, but daddy says something like, "That never stops you from waking up early on the weekends." and makes me get out of bed. The next 20 minutes is a frantic rush around the house. Well not by me but mommy and daddy are running around. They let me watch a show on TV while daddy dresses me. In the background I can hear mommy chasing Julia around the house. Julia is crying because she wants to wear a dress and sandals to school and mommy is making her wear pants and sneakers. When daddy is done dressing me he gives me my peanut butter sandwich. It tastes dry but I'm used to it by now. It takes a while for mommy and daddy to make my sandwich. They are always mixing things into the peanut butter before they spread it on to my sandwich. I used to wonder what it was and tried to watch what they were doing, but it doesn't bother me anymore. I don't like people touching my head, but I let mommy brush my hair because I'm watching a show and I can tolerate her touching me. And if I run out of the living room away from her, daddy will eventually catch me and do it himself, and I really don't want to run into the kitchen because daddy's oatmeal smells funny. Julia puts on her own sneakers but I sit there and wait until mommy helps me with mine. She asks me to do them myself, but I don't want to. They don't feel right when I do them and I don't know which sneaker goes on which foot. And the velcro strip makes a funny noise that bothers my ears. Now for the potty. Julia goes and then it's my turn. I don't like to go. I'm busy watching a show and I don't want to stop what I'm doing. It's a waste of my time. And I don't like when someone tells me when to go. I'll go when I'm ready. But most of the time mommy and daddy insist I go and if I don't mommy gets all frustrated that I won't go and daddy picks me up and brings me to the bathroom. Then mommy feels bad and bribes me to go. I go potty and she gives me 3 mini chocolate chips. Sometimes I don't give in to the bribe and mommy says we're going to be late to school.
I like to go to school. It gives me time away from Julia and my teachers pay a lot of attention to me. I don't like when the kids don't put things where they belong. And sometimes the other kids play loud and there are a lot of them. I usually like to play by myself but every once and a while I'll get right into the middle of the kids playing and rough house with the other boys. Last year before I began my special diet I did a lot of rough housing. My teacher had a reward chart and whenever our picture reached the top of the chart we got a prize. One day after mommy picked me up from school she started crying in the car. She said that she was sad because I was always at the bottom of the chart below the other kids and it made her feel bad. I don't like to see mommy cry. It never bothered me that I was at the bottom of the chart but since it made mommy happy when I moved up the chart, I tried my best to be a good boy. I was so happy the first time I reached the top. I picked a plastic helicopter out of the prize box and couldn't wait to show mommy when she picked me up.
I get to have a special snack at school. All of the kids know that I eat special food and they are not allowed to share their food with me. Sometimes I see all of the other kids eating something that I'm not allowed to have but I try not to let it bother me. My special food makes me feel better and helps me be a good boy. Mommy and daddy like when I'm a good boy; I do too. I don't like it when mommy cries. She used to cry a lot when I was being a bad boy at home. She said I wasn't listening to her. I was trying to, but it was hard for me to concentrate on what she was saying and sometimes I didn't understand what she wanted. But now I understand what people are saying for the most part and I like to please my family and my teachers. I like when they are proud of me.
After morning snack I go with my teacher to wait outside for the bus. The bus brings me to my new school. There are lots of kids there and I have four teachers in the classroom. We do the same routine everyday and it helps me learn the schedule and know what is coming up next. Sometimes other teachers come in the classroom to get me and bring me back to their office. One teacher makes me practice things with my hands and the other makes me practice talking. I don't like to write but I am getting better at it, and maybe it's not so bad after all. I try to write the letters of my name like the other kids in class. The teachers and my mommy and daddy are always correcting the way I hold my pencil. I ask for help because I want them to hold my hand and help me make the letters. Sometimes they help me but most of the time they make me do it myself. Lately I've been more willing to write on my own. At school we made a September calendar and each night I'm supposed to trace the numbers on it. Once I trace one day's numbers I keep going. I know I'm only supposed to do one day at a time, but mommy lets me trace as many as I want.
Over the weekend I went pumpkin picking with my daddy, grandma, aunt, and cousins. Here's me decorating my pumpkin with a silly face and my name.
It was sunny when we went apple and pumpkin picking. I still like to wear my hat and sunglasses whenever it is sunny and hot out. I don't like when it's too hot and I don't like when it is too bright out. I had fun at the orchard, but the high grass and weeds kept rubbing against my legs and that kind of touch on my legs is not a nice feeling.
At lunch time at school, my bread smells a little different than the bread the other kids are eating, but the other kids didn't get to have Ms. Sue make their special lunch for them. She uses the toaster that mommy brought in for the classroom to toast my bread. And then I usually have a sandwich with mustard, turkey, and salami on it. In the afternoon we have time outside on the playground. I like running around with the kids on the playground. I am a good climber and runner and I can keep up with all of the big and strong kids. Most adults think I'm really 7 years old because I'm just as big as the kids in 2nd grade and I can keep up with them during physical activities. But then they hear me speak and realize that I'm still just a little kid. Strangers can't always understand what I am saying, but one of my teachers is helping me to pronounce my sounds better.
I am not crazy about getting my hair cut. I only let mommy cut it, and sometimes nonna, nobody else. Once daddy brought me to a barber shop when he was getting his haircut and wanted me to sit in the chair and get mine done too, but I refused. I don't want anyone touching my hair with a machine that makes noise, and I don't like when the scissor goes near my ear or when the hair falls in my face. It tickles me and makes me feel itchy and I really dislike the way it feels. But this weekend I let mommy cut my hair. I got a lollipop afterwards.
We had family visit us over the weekend. We picked up my uncles, who live in California, from the train station. I so badly wanted to ride the train, but daddy said no and we were taking our uncles back home with us and that was pretty neat so I didn't mind so much that I couldn't ride the train. I was so excited to have different people in the car with us that I talked to them for most of the trip.
We celebrated Megan's birthday and I got to have a special cupcake. There were balloons and I accidentally let go of my yellow balloon outside and it blew away. It landed out in the woods. I wanted daddy to get it for me but he didn't. Mommy and daddy said that it wasn't a big deal that it was gone because we had other ones in the house. But that was the only yellow balloon, and it was mine, and I didn't want it to go away. I didn't get to say goodbye.
Twice a week daddy puts cream and a bandaid on my bum-bum and then mommy takes a needle out of the refridgerator and puts the medicine in my skin. They tell me that it helps me and makes me feel better, but I think it hurts. I do have to admit that I don't really feel the needle going in, but then all of a sudden something starts to burn inside my skin and I cry. Mommy says I'm so brave but at that moment I don't care. I run up to my room. Daddy used to have to hold me down but now I lay down across his lap. I don't like to do it, but it is better than him holding me down. I get really scared when he holds me down and I feel like I have to always look over my shoulder because I never know when I'll be grabbed and held down to get a needle. But now we have an understanding that I will lie down on my own as long as he doesn't force me and hold me down. It does take me a while to get there, but I get there. I get so anxious and the nerves build up inside of me. Sometimes I stand at the edge of the rug crying, hoping that daddy will say that I don't need the medicine, but he hasn't done that yet. He encourages me to come over on my own or it will be daddy's way and he'll have to hold me. I'm nervous, but I slowly make my way over, one small step at a time. Mommy is clearly upset but with some encouragement from daddy she tries to hold it together and be brave for me. Within 30 seconds the rest is all over with. I think each time it gets easier and this last time everyone was here watching me and they clapped for me. I still sobbed afterwards pretending that I didn't care they were clapping, but it was different than nobody being here and it was okay. Maybe it's not so bad getting the red medicine. It makes it easier for me to be a good boy, and like I said before, I like to be a good boy.
Note: This story is simply my view of what Ryan's life might be like for him. While it may not necessarily be an exact depiction of his feelings, I can't help but think that for many things I've hit the nail on the head.
DC
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