That’s my mantra. My concrete brain wants to connect all the dots to my daughters. I have a control-freak hiding deep inside that whispers, if you know why, then you’ll know how to make her all better.
Then I open the fridge to make breakfast and see this:
How's that for a metaphor?
My kids don’t make any more sense than the neighbors. In a way, I am lucky because I have a team of medical geniuses to help me through the mind-boggling times. Not everyone can call have a developmental pediatrician walk them through discipline and IEP strategies. Or have an Occupational Therapist give you a list of ideal ways to run your kid into the ground to guarantee naps optimum sensory input.
Now that I look at it that way, I am ahead of the game. Fancy that.