Bear’s pre-school graduation
I don’t talk a lot about Bear and William’s Syndrome on here. I think that I’ve said it before that this is kind of an escape for me here on my blog, but every now and again I like to talk about him. Because he’s just pretty awesome. 
Today he graduated from pre-school. He was precious and got the loudest round of applause when his name was called. He ran up to get his diploma, clapping back at everyone and yelling “cheese” as we, his family including cousins, grandparents and aunts and uncles, clicked away on our iphones capturing the event. He’s a joy and I know that he will be very missed by his teachers and therapists. I’m not guessing on that end of things, they all told me so.
Having a special needs child can be life shattering at times as you try to understand and cope with all the unexpectedness of it all. Then, the other side of it all is hilarious. Bear sat next to a little boy with Down’s Syndrome who hit Bear the whole time- greatly irritating him. My mom nearly came out of her seat the second time Wyatt smacked Bear’s graduation cap off, finally pulling his glasses off his face. The teachers were too distracted to notice and Bear got in trouble for shouting “NO WYATT!” and hitting him back. I really shouldn’t be laughing but Bear’s outrage and Wyatt’s joy at the reaction he was getting was kind of hilarious.
His graduating class.
I laughed and enjoyed their singing in barely audible nervous voices, then got bored soon after Bear got his diploma but will never admit this again to anyone.
Clapping for the audience clapping for him. :)
There was a slide show, a speech and lots of teary eyed parents and grandparents.
Bear with Gigi and Poppy! (Somehow I didn’t get a picture of Bear with Grandma)
and I could barely stop from crying.
When did I become this classic, emotional mother who dreads each year? Not really dreads, but I’m definitely sad and wish that I could somehow put Bear in a time capsule to stay in this period forever. As kids start to grow up around us, his differences start to stand out more. I know this is my life and wouldn’t change anything, but to be real and honest here sometimes I wish I didn’t feel things so strongly and that this wasn’t my reality. It’s that old scar, the one that will never heal, that periodically gets opened back in a painful way and I try to find a different way to stitch it back up.
Once again, I breathe in and out slowly, lower my shoulders from their hovering haunched position and know how beautiful my life is.
Family