R and I discussed taking the kids to a local community pool today. It's going to be hot again (when isn't it going to be hot this summer, jeez!) and we are looking for affordable, non electronically related ways to keep them entertained.
As soon as we asked them if they wanted to go, they just went nuts. There was screaming, there was rolling around on the floor, there was twirling in circles. And, inevitably, someone got hurt. The other someone was sorry but good grief!
This has been a really tough weekend for T. He's had more meltdowns this weekend than in the last two months combined. Today at the pool, T freaked out because R was trying to give him swimming pointers. Not even 'you are doing it incorrectly' pointers, more like 'it will be easier if you do it this way' pointers. So whatever is going on with him is at least close to the surface. By the time we left the pool, T and R had made their peace, but I'm really concerned.
Starting tomorrow, T is supposed to go to a gym and swim camp at the downtown Y. The kids and I haven't ever been to this Y, but I really thought that T would love the combination of tumbling and swimming. And he seemed excited about it until he went to gymnastics last week. I'm not sure exactly what happened. R took him to class and when they got back, R said that T said some of the girls in the class were making fun of him. T is adamant that he is not going back. R said he didn't notice anything unusual, and I wonder if I would have.
And now a weekend full of meltdowns. Sigh.
So, obviously, there's something going on. I know - my observation skills are astounding, no? I didn't expect to have to try and tame my internal mama bear so soon. T has faced so many challenges - his issues with personal space, his speech delay, the sensory processing issues, his extremely stubborn streak...
All of these have impacted T so far, the difference being that he hasn't noticed or if he has noticed, he hasn't minded. But if these girls were really making fun of him, he has noticed and he is quite upset about it.
So what now? Drag him kicking and screaming to the rest of the gymnastics practices? Shove him in the door of the downtown Y and run for the car? I don't think so. But I don't want to teach him to run away from difficult situations, either.
When I put T to bed tonight and reminded him of what we had to do this week, he hid under the covers and cried. He doesn't want to go to gymnastics of any form. My mommy heart did some breaking over his distress. My realistic and logical heart knows that there is a solution. But at this moment in time I have no clue what that solution might be.
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