Blogger note: This is a series of posts centered on my sons', Jay and Craig, special needs. I’ll be blogging about our journey from discovery to diagnosis and beyond.

Jay was gone. I looked for him through the throng of festival attendees as they entered and exited the fairground gateway. I had already left the inside crush of vendors selling corndogs, plastic Dora dolls, flashlight swords, lemonades, nachos and handmade wind chimes. I stood on the outside looking in through the chain link fence, hoping to catch a glimpse of my oldest son. I dialed his number on my cell phone and called. It rang, but he didn’t answer. I tried again.

Earlier in the day Jay, Jimmy, Craig and I had drove 45 minutes north to join our baby-in-law’s* at the local harvest festival. It was like a mini-fair with vendors, exhibits and amusement rides.

All in all, it was supposed to be a fun day. However, Jay got upset a few times early on and it required careful navigation on my part.

The first incident happened when we visited the reptile exhibit. Jay decided he’d sit in a chair all day watching videos of the late Steve Irwin. He was deeply mourning him, this I understood, but his behavior – obsession – was inappropriate for the social situation. He wanted to sit there all day and pay tribute to the crocodile man he had loved. Jimmy and I gently nudged a sad, mad Jay out of the area.

Getting Jay out of the reptile exhibit was a small quiet redirect. Not too long after we had another flare up. This one wasn’t as easy to move past. Craig was going to ride his first rollercoaster. It was designed for young children and many were excitedly waiting in line. The speed, noise and commotion of the ride scared Jay. He told me very sternly, “You can’t put my little brother on there. He’ll get hurt.”

I could tell Jay was afraid and angry. He thought I was putting his brother on a ride to certain death. He flapped his hands at his sides and then clinched them into fists. I could tell by his expression he was gritting his teeth too. He remained adamant about Craig not going on the ride and became louder with his directives. Other people were starting to notice.

Jay’s fear was real. I’m sure he felt like I was doing the equivalent of pushing Craig off a cliff and then saying he’d be fine.

Craig felt very different about the same situation. He was excited and knew something fun was about to happen. He loved the noise, people and colors.

I had to take Jay through some careful explanations and outline the process of the ride. I assured him the ride was built for kids of Craig’s size and age. I walked him through how Craig was feeling about it and how it was different than Jay’s feelings. I made him pay attention to the children on the ride and explained those were happy faces not scared ones. I told him to listen to them laughing and watch them waving.

This did little to appease him, but it was enough that he stepped back and let me put Craig on the ride when it was time.

Dan and Kathy* and stood nearby, mostly out of earshot of the conversation. They could sense there was an issue but gave us some room for privacy.

Personally, I was glad they didn’t hear too much. Much of what I said to Jay was in low tones and quietly spoken near his ear. I tried to defuse the situation quickly and calmly as possible.

Normally I wasn’t embarrassed because of my son’s unusual behavior in public but this was the first time we were in a ‘situation’ in front of my baby-in-laws.

Check the 'Special Needs Kids' category for more in this series.

*Dan and Kathy are my son Craig's grandfather and aunt on his birth dad's side. Their names have been changed to protect their privacy.

*Baby-in-laws is how we refer to being family to one another through open adoption. One day I told Dan that he feels like my in-law but wasn’t sure how that worked since he wasn’t Jimmy’s dad. He said we’re baby-in-laws! The name has stuck.


More posts in this series: 1 2 3 4 5