I’ve never felt comfortable claiming the label of “special needs” for my child.
I know families of children with real special needs. I know how hard each moment is, how uncertain the future is. I am in awe of the sacrifice, determination, and sheer audacity of those parents. They’re truly super heroes in my mind. But if you remove the weighty meaning behind the words, “special needs” are exactly what my child has.
You see it might look like we’re running late again; but the reality is that he had a 30 minute meltdown on the stairs because he couldn’t handle transitioning to a different floor of our house.
I might look like a helicopter mom, controlling what he eats, scheduling out his day; but thereality is that it’s me who has to deal with three days of his terror and anger over everyday life if he has even one piece of red candy.
We might look like we have awesome toys; but the reality is they all have a therapeutic purpose.