It’s 2 a.m. here, and I cannot sleep. Perhaps it is due to not acclimating to the recent time change…perhaps it’s just because there is so much going on in my mind that I cannot quiet it.
I was late getting home to supper tonight because I had to run errands. Consequently, the boys had eaten by the time I got home. My wife had fixed a delicious meal, and she was waiting for me.
Even though Spider-Man* had already eaten, he said he was still hungry and wanted to sit with me to eat. I welcomed him to the table, of course, and we sat much like normal.
As many of you know, Spider-Man is on the spectrum. He’s communicative, but it is different.
A glimpse
Tonight, as we sat there, I saw it. I saw a glimpse. A glimpse of what it was like when he was a toddler of a year or two old and he would look up to me.
It was a glimpse of happiness and joy. He was merely explaining to me how much he loved his Mom’s homemade chicken pot pie (which was delicious, I may add).
As he spoke for a couple of minutes, I just sat there and listened. I saw the glimpse. I was happy.
Then, A-bomb started to get fussy and wanted Daddy. It was his bed time, and I had to help get him to bed.
But, for a moment, I saw a glimpse.
It doesn’t happen often, but I live for moments like these.
*Their names have been changed to protect the innocent (or not-so-innocent at times). This is what happens whenever you let little boys decide on nicknames.
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