"Mom, you know in The Lord of the Rings how the ring calls out to Frodo to do things he does not want to do?" I perk up, my son is very chatty, but usually hides important points he wants to make in abstraction. "Sometimes I feel my senses are like that too." Years ago I told him he had special senses out of guilt for passing on the colorblind gene to him. I told him being red green color deficient made him extra aware of other subtleties, and gave him special senses that not everyone has.
"What are your senses telling you to do?" I can feel my arm hair standing on edge. Please don't tell me you want to do anything terrible, I can't take it, not today, not ever.
"Well, sometimes they want me to smash the TV, or scream at the top of my lungs, even in school." I sigh deeply, sometimes I feel like that too.
"I am glad you don't listen to those senses all the time. I would be irritated if you smashed the TV."
"Is dad going to make waffles like he promised this morning?" Dad perks up in bed and mumbles a vague rumble of words that sound something like "inaminit".
The school emailed this week and they are starting the process of testing Charlie for learning disabilities. This boy has charismatically charmed since the day he was born. Even the delivery nurses held him a little longer, smiling, "We love Charlie," they told me, and I believed them. His eyes penetrate, he loves people, people love him, always have. Born into a family of introverts, he hurdled us into a world where people enjoy each other, just for the sake of it. A world, until him, we often doubted was genuine.
As Charlie dragged dad downstairs to get started on the waffles I stayed in bed an extra five minutes. Sometimes I want to smash the TV too, and I certainly feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, even in school. We will just have to keep the ring in our pockets, Charlie.
