Tuesday. The day that not only follows Monday but seems to be a day of momentum as the work week is in full swing. Not this Tuesday however, it was simply rather blah. My work and energy just seemed to be somewhat sluggish. The routine of balancing my Army responsibilities and the regular challenges of our family (and Kaydan) just made me somewhat melancholy. My wife was particularly tired this day having been up since before 4 a.m. Shortly after lunch she texted me with the tone of desperation wishing she could take a nap. Worth noting is that this Tuesday was the first day of having Kaydan home all day between summer school and the beginning of the fall school year. Having Kaydan home for an entire day is always a challenge and this Tuesday was no different. And even though our Registered Behavioral Therapist (RBT) typically comes everyday in the afternoon, we are still required to be “on-call” in the event that there’s an emergency or any need that the RBT cannot meet.
I had messaged Lori that I would do my best to leave and be home by 4 p.m. Of course, I walked in the door by 4:30, and just in time to bid Kaydan’s RBT goodbye. Kaydan was docile for the moment as he lay on the floor, likely mentally recuperating from the rigors of Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) therapy! His quiet did not last long as he fully realized I was home and he began to amp up his volume and accompanying antics. Looking at the clock I realized we were still three hours from bedtime. Looking at Lori, I wasn’t sure she would make it that long! Reluctantly, I suggested that I take him for a drive to give Lori and everyone else a break from Kaydan. That sounds awful even as I look at it on the screen, “a break from Kaydan.” I do realize that all parents need a break from their kids from time to time. The constant need to be engaged and aware of what Kaydan is doing at all times is taxing enough, but the truly draining element is the intensity with which Kaydan does most things. I often say he’s as challenging as he is lovable. He’s an eight year old and nearly 65 pound bundle of “game on” in everything he does, whether that’s giving hugs or absolute defiance.
For those of you that may not realize it, we are currently stationed in Hawaii. As such, I bought a convertible as my work car. Kaydan loves riding in my car with the top down and music blaring. This Tuesday was no different. To be transparent, my taking Kaydan for a drive was in my mind “taking one for the team.” I did so willingly but was honestly not looking forward to the potential of “game on” Kaydan on this day. Across the island of Oahu, is a Marine Corps base at Kaneohe. The drive is beautiful. More than once we’ve taken Kaydan, and his brother Grayson, on a drive to the base there to simply get out of the house and go through the McDonald’s drive-thru, without ever getting out of the van! Kaydan enjoyed the ride to the base and I felt a wave of bravery with the thought of taking him to the commissary (what the military calls their on-post grocery stores) by myself. I parked and we made our way inside without incident. Kaydan loves the car-carts at any store and the commissary thankfully had plenty. Frankly, he’s probably 15-20 pounds too big for them but he doesn’t care and neither do I. My own countenance had lightened somewhat but I still wanted to quietly go through the commissary and grab the few items that I knew we could use. I quickly realized however, that Kaydan did not see this as an exercise in stealth.
Within the first few turns in the produce section, Kaydan spun the steering wheel and yelled as if about to crash with nearly every movement. At first I attempted to be dignified and “normal,” but Kaydan has a way of making those things go out the window. All at once I realized, it did not matter what anyone in the commissary thought: I was there to enjoy my son. One of the things Kaydan has taught me, good or bad, is that what people think isn’t nearly as important as enjoying the moment with him. Somewhere between the tomatoes and the turnips my inner child emerged and my cart driving took on the form of NASCAR qualification! Thankfully, the commissary wasn’t terribly busy. Kaydan laughed, at every turn, at every screeching stop, and every tire squealing take off. I became lost in the moment in his laughter and his disregard for any sense of anyone watching and caring even less if they were.
The most simple and meaningful surprise however, came as Kaydan began to say hello to every person in every aisle. And even just saying hello is in “game on” mode for Kaydan! For a moment I realized that the same people Kaydan was now engaging with were the same ones that had likely been watching us with our cart antics just moments before. By now I had come to my senses and was no longer driving the cart like a lunatic, but Kaydan’s energy and genuine mirth seemed infectious to everyone he greeted. At first I felt sheepish as if I were merely the chauffer cart driver, but I began to say hello myself and smile at those we greeted as well. Even in light of the masks that we were all wearing, I could see and feel the warmth of smiles behind the masks. I felt almost guilty realizing that it took my eight year old special needs child to help me create connection with people. Even as a Chaplain, I realize how perfunctory caring for people can become. Kaydan has a way of drawing out that which is real and genuine. He did that for me on this particular Tuesday, and I’m sure he did for a few others as well. I think I smiled all the way back home.
It’s been said that it’s the little things that matter. Kaydan certainly has a way of accentuating little things in our lives–good or bad. On this Tuesday however, he took a simple hello and made it bigger than life. I’m thankful for the small things, big hellos from my little man, and the reminder that God’s love shows up at the commissary on any given Tuesday.
Thanks again for your support in our journey. We’ll continue the journey on the 15th, which happens to be a Wednesday!
Brad