Leo had his nine year "well" visit today. NINE! Gulp and also, yikes. Oh time. You do have a way of marching on, don't you?
I've said this before and I'll say it again, after so many years of struggling with Leo at doctor's visits, what a pleasure it is now, to take Leo to these appointments. Watching him agreeably have his ears checked and heart listened to, it's almost eerie, it's like he's not even the same person he was at age three, and four and five, when it sometimes took two people to hold Leo down just so the doctor could look in his throat or listen to his heart.
Now? Leo is Mr. Cool. Today, even though he told me he didn't want to have his blood pressure taken, he conceded, and while the arm band pumped away, he politely told Dr. J about fourth grade and his beloved planets and basketball and how he likes to go the doctor now but "NOT with Ellie."
Leo's doctor even commented on it, right after he remarked on "What a nice young boy Leo is turning into." (Yes, he sees Leo maybe three times a year, but no matter, and so cue my heart, swelling).
"For years I only saw Leo when he was upset and febrile, so I never got to know him. What a pleasure he is," said Dr. J.
Dr. J also told me how impressed he was by how our family juggles everything and launched into the whole "God only gives you what you can handle" speech which I sort of roll my eyes at, but I also know that people mean well when they mention it. He made me laugh though, because he went on to say how he'll see a mom with a lot of kids and various issues or special needs and they are doing just fine, and then he sees a mom with one kid, perfectly healthy and no issues, and they are just freaking out and not handling it at all. I don't know, I don't mean to sound boastful in any way, it just made me smile. How everyone "handles" things? It's all relative I guess.
***
Ellie has soccer on Sunday afternoons and Leo usually comes too. During Ellie's game, he goes to the playground and often strikes up a pick-up basketball game at one of the nearby courts.
Last week Leo played with this nice young man. I watched them from afar and thought it was great how they just played together and didn't even need to speak to each other. I guess that's just how dudes are.
Of course I keep an eye on Leo, the playground is not in my direct line of sight by the soccer field, so I check on him throughout the game. Again, it does not go unnoticed how far we've come. Just a few years ago I would never have dreamed of taking Leo to a playground and not watching him like a hawk, fearing that he'd run off into the street or just, run off altogether.
Two weeks ago, during one of my "checks," I noticed Leo was sitting atop the monkey bars. Sobbing. I walked over to him and asked him what was wrong. He told me that a boy had pushed him. He pointed to a group of young boys several hundred yards away, paying no attention to Leo.
It's always a little touchy, being the mom at the playground with older kids. I wasn't about to bust in and reprimand anyone: I didn't see what happened. So I told Leo that the next time something like that happened, he should come and get me.
Then yesterday, after Ellie's game, I let her join Leo at the playground for a few minutes. Ellie had ordered me to "guard her Oreos," and I was happy to oblige at the bench in front of the slides. A short while later, a little girl from Ellie's soccer team approached a dad who was standing next to me, talking to a mom.
"Excuse me! Excuse me!" the little girl was quite persistent.
I thought maybe someone was hurt.
"That boy over there, he's talking funny. And...he's older. He's not a baby or a little kid but he kind of sounds like one. He's not talking right."
Now my ears were really perked up: I realized she was talking about Leo.
"Is anyone hurt?" the dad asked. "Is someone fighting?"
"Well, um, no," the girl answered.
"OK, so..." the dad just looked at her and she slowly walked away.
It was just so ODD. She didn't even seem to know the dad. So she was tattling on Leo...for "not talking right?"
I couldn't help myself. I slowly followed the little girl. There was Leo once again, sitting atop the monkey bars and looking very upset, his lip curled over into a pout, his face, red.
The little girl was back at it.
"Well why does he talk like that? What is he saying?" She was talking to a small group of children, one of whom was Ellie. No one was saying anything, except Ellie. Sweet Ellie. Thank goodness for Ellie.
"He goes to speech school (that's what we've nicknamed Leo's private speech therapy, which he goes to on Saturday mornings. Ellie likes to come along because it means she gets a lollipop). And he just talks how he talks. Not everyone talks the same you know."
Ellie wasn't letting this little girl (who happened to be Ellie's teammate, I realized) get away with anything. She was very matter of fact about Leo's speech: He just talks that way. What's your point?
And to be fair, none of the other kids in the group seemed to know what to say to her either, nor understand what her problem was.
It was an odd situation. I didn't want to intervene and be the pushy helicopter mom. The girl wasn't being outwardly cruel, just kind of insensitive. I told Leo it was time to go (which it was), but I watched as Ellie's teammate actually climbed down from the monkey bars and actually followed Ellie, continuing to ask her about "Why he talks that way?"
In hindsight, I wonder if it was a "teachable moment." Maybe I should have said something to the girl about diversity and how not everyone speaks in the same way, looks the same, etcetera (though I feel like Ellie had covered that already). Unless someone is in harm's way, I really like to let kids try and work things out (especially kids I don't know!).
And now, a new reason to keep an eye on Leo at the playground.
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