I complain probably more often than I should about my son’s shortcomings. I think it is because he trips up on the smaller issues, the simpler things that maybe in life we all take for granted that we are expected to know. Remembering to feed a beloved family pet. Zipping one’s fly. Remembering when the bell rings to gather up all of his belongings and head to the next class, instead of leaving papers like breadcrumbs or as a “you were here” reminder.
It sounds almost nit-picky. And in some ways it kind of is. But those are the things that keep things going; the minutia of life. These are the things that when you break down are what keep the wheels continuing round and round. It keeps the cogs moving.
So it annoys me when sometimes even the simplest tasks are the most difficult. I can’t help it. It does.
However, there are times when he steps up to the plate and reminds me that while he has Asperger’s and struggles with the smallest things, he is capable of larger ones. And then I have to ask myself this important question: Does the minutia matter in the long run?
I came down with a bout of food poisoning mixed in with a little inebriation. Lying on my bathroom floor after being sick several times, my husband had to go get my vehicle and asked Spiff to keep an eye on me for a while. He did, and while I laid on the floor, slightly out of it he disappeared for a few minutes and came back holding something and set it down beside me.
It was a large plastic bowl.
It was just what I needed, and it was a little thing.
Maybe he does get it after all.