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Special Needs

 I'm blubbering to the family counselor. "I've just heard that the years between 5 and 10 are supposed to be the fun years, and we're NOT THERE...."


The counselor laughs at me. "Fun years? Who said that? All three of my children are in the range you are citing. It's not fun. It's a nightmare. They can't self-regulate, they're trying to learn. It's all hell."

This makes me laugh. I think the counselor could have used her imagination. When people mention the 5-to-10 chestnut, they are suggesting that these are the years when (a) your child can communicate in an intelligent way and (b) your child is not yet a snotty teenager. But I can still laugh.

My greatest resentment right now is that I can't read in the way I want to read. Oh, I can read. But the range is restricted. Novels need to have short chapters, and the "cast" needs to feature a psychopath. Without a psychopath, the stakes are too low. A part of me would like to read "Heart the Lover," by Lily King, but then I consider the plot. College students having trouble in love? Who the fuck cares?

I feel unending fury for a smug, judgmental book I once read called "The Child Who Is Not Yet Peaceful." In this insufferable book, a little kid is struggling with ADHD. The parents consider medication, but then they discover the *real* solution is to spend more time in nature. One parent has "beautifully" sacrificed her professional ambitions, so she is home everyday at three to welcome the child and stage peaceful, restorative "bird-watching expeditions" and "butterfly hunts." Because this mom is not a selfish bitch obsessed with career advancement, she is able to rescue her child from the tyranny of psychopharmacological intervention. I imagine, when she dreams of teaching a college course or writing a novel, she just quietly excuses herself, then beats her own skull with a mallet until the silly, toxic thoughts are driven out of her head.

The family counselor suggests that I "make some special needs friends." Arrange cocktail nights, in which everyone can laugh and commiserate. It's a thought.

But one half of me wonders if it wouldn't be better to design a PowerPoint for my kids: "This Is What the Years Five to Ten SHOULD Look Like." I'd take questions at the end. I'd type up handouts.

Clearly, this is a brilliant idea.
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Comments

  1. Unkie JoelOctober 6, 2025 at 8:48 AM

    "Pigeonholes". Get close and they are pretty much lined with shit.

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousOctober 8, 2025 at 5:37 AM

    Yes, that makes sense. Thank you for the reminder. :-)

    ReplyDelete

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