Sand.

I was working on this blog on Sunday morning, and then decided to read a few posts out to the kids.  I thought they would get a kick out of hearing about their lives when they were little.  Nik was sitting right by me and was able to read a few words of each as I scrolled through the posts.  I skipped over the ones that referred to his diagnosis or the ABA therapies, since I am not ready to discuss autism with him yet.

I also skipped a few that I thought would make him sad, but read one out that I thought he could handle, one of him getting picked on by older girls who dumped sand on his head at a birthday party, when he was three, and he let them because he wanted them to play with him.  He was upset when I read it, and asked if we still knew the girls and how old they were.  I explained how they were young then, only a couple years older than him, but they probably wouldn’t do that again if they saw him today.  And that he would never let them get away with it now.  He made a couple of vengeful comments and a face or two, but then seemed to let it go.

Last night, I heard him crying in his room.  When I asked him what was wrong, what was bothering him, he said, “Sand.  Sand on my head.”

Broke my heart all over again.