It Just Never Gets Old

Note to self about the above: Never forget how far we've come.

I surprised myself yesterday, at what was, I believe Leo's third "non-freakout" haircut. It's been almost a whole year since he first allowed someone to cut his hair without protest, without huge amounts of bargaining and bribing and brute strength. Longtime readers know, I cried actual tears that day.

And yet...yesterday, as I watched my "big" boy serenley play a Toy Story video game (his first video game--not counting iPhone games--he was in heaven) I still felt a little choked up. A little emotional. I didn't expect to feel that way. I'd dutifully packed the iPad (which is what had originally seemed to relax him, seemed to help him turn that corner of fear and sensory and who knows what else)  and yet, when asked if he wanted to watch a dvd or play a game? Leo chose game. I didn't even have to take the iPad out of my purse.

I briefly wondered if he would be upset when the cut was finished, that he'd have a hard time stopping the game--did we inadvertently add a challenge to what might be a potentially precarious situation? But no. It wasn't a problem. That was the Old Leo. The New Leo simply tossed the cape aside and hopped out of the chair (not before admiring his handsome self in the mirror first). OK, Leo did hug the stylist and tell him he "wanted to marry him" but hey, we pick our battles.

It's such a cliche, but it's true. Seeing how hard certain things are for Leo, knowing how long it takes for him to master certain tasks...it just means that when they do come, when he is successful, well that just never, ever gets old. And I never stop appreciating it. I wish things didn't have to be so hard sometimes, for Leo (and for us as his parents), but what I do feel extremely fortunate for is the fact that all those struggles have led me to appreciate the little, mundane tasks that are now so blissfully uneventful. A haircut. Imagine that.

Yesterday, Leo's biggest challenge? To squelch the giggles. From the tickle of scissors and stray hairs.

All those doctor and dentist appointments and haircut attempts where we exited in tears and knots of stress and grief and frustration: poof. Gone. I know friends who still struggle with this with their children and I know how hard it is and I know how painful it is to see other parents who completely take for granted the simple act of a trip to the dentist or hairstylist.

It's going to be OK, I say. He'll outgrow it. She'll get there. People told me this and I wanted so desperately to believe them. But sometimes? Sometimes the only way out is through.