My Baby Turned 18

The day my son was born was the single most joyful day of my life.  I knew when I was pregnant with him that it would be our last child, and after having two girls, I was really, really hoping for a son.  My dream came true and I could not have asked for a more wonderful little guy.  I could bore you with his academic and athletic successes, but I would rather tell you about his special bond with Middle Child.

When he was born, our oldest was five years old, in preschool, with her own set of friends and activities.  That left Middle Child to be the primary doting sister.  And by doting, I mean pushing, pulling, and a lot of generally annoying behavior.  He took it all in stride and they were constant companions, to the point of excluding the oldest, making her very jealous of their relationship at times.

He was a chatty one, and by the age of two, talking up a storm.  The only problem was that he had some severe speech impediments.  I remember him not being able to say any words with L, S, or C.  That's when we began to notice that Middle Child understood everything he was saying and would translate.  At first, I questioned that she really knew what he said.  But if I repeated it to him, he would nod vigorously or later, do what she said he had wanted to do!  It was amazing.  Fortunately, a few years of speech therapy cured him of his dysfluencies and we were all able to understand him.

I've shared before how many issues Middle Child has faced over the years with her autism diagnosis. Her brother has been a true blessing in her life.  When she wasn't able to interact with peers, she always had a playmate in her brother.  They had the best times playing dolls (with him incorporating his dump trucks, and flinging the dolls off high places, courtesy of the trucks), elaborate Christmas plays staged with dozens of beanie babies, including scripts and computer made programs, and fun outside catching salamanders or hiding water balloons all over the backyard.

Where I really noticed and appreciated his patience and understanding was on family vacations.  Being away from home, out of a routine, and experiencing new sights and sounds is overwhelming for people on the spectrum.  Middle Child would freak out with no notice, usually ending up in a weeping jag that would last 12 hours.  Oldest would then be embarrassed or angry and not hold back. I admit to not being particularly patient after an hour or two and on the second box of tissues.  My son?  Not only no complaints, but helpful in trying to steer her back into a better frame of mind.  And always there to gently remind her to watch her step, get some extra napkins (she is the messiest person I know), or help her locate whatever it is that she had lost.

Even at the age of 5, I noticed his thoughtfulness with his sister, looking out for her, anticipating her needs, and reminding her of what she needed to do.  He assumed the role of big brother, even though that was not the case.  So, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when he asked me to proofread his college essays and one of them was about the most influential person in his life.  Guess who?