You’re not meant to cry when your kid sees Santa right? It shouldn’t be emotional when he asks them a question and they actually answer him, especially when your child is 5.
But Naomi has met Santa this year. Every other year she has cried. She has huge anxiety and finds speaking in public, especially to strangers, incredibly traumatic. She doesn’t always answer you when you speak to her, and when she does it isn’t always an appropriate answer. I was therefore very surprised as we walked past a Santa’s grotto in late Novemeber and she asked if she could see him. While her brother sat in his buggy screaming at his parents having the cheek to bring his buggy to a standstill, Naomi and I went in.
“Hello Naomi, good to see you today. And what would you like for Christmas this year?”
“A toothbrush please!”
He gave her a plastic toy pizza but she was happy at that. I’m not sure if it was relief, a touch of embarrassment at her answer or pride that she spoke to a stranger and went into a dark grotto…but I just wiped a tear away.
She has met Santa a few time now. This was at a party for children with autism at a local soft play centre. She was asking Santa this time for a second selection box ‘because my brother had to leave and he can’t speak.’
She might have autism but the love and care she has for her brother melts me.
There was no way in the world Santa wasn’t going to give that sweet girl a second selection box.
She got off his knee and said ‘mummy this one is for Isaac. I know he will love it. But he would not love Santa so I got one for him.’
I think I actually saw Santa wipe a tear away too.
But it is ok to cry at your child’s nativity play, right? Well I did anyway. At both. Naomi was the most beautiful angel I have ever seen in my life. Even though we were sat right at the front row where she could see us clearly, the anxiety was written all over her face. As the room became more and more crowded and noisy I could see she was struggling. But she held it together. Her mouth opened along with the songs but no noise came out. Not even a whisper. Too many people. Too much anxiety. All too overwhelming. When the angels went up for thier little part she needed support to negotiate through the younger seated children. And support to return to her seat again. The tears were ready to fall when one of the other angels sat on the seat she was previously sat on. That lost look on her face and feeling of so much stress. Thankfully I was close enough to show her the empty seat right in front of me that in her panic she hadn’t been able to see. She had been upset that she didn’t have a speaking part, even though she doesn’t speak in nursery. Nursery knew she wouldn’t manage it. And so did I. I was proud she had got this far. Proud to see her with so many others. Proud she was dressed up and trying to sing along even if her voice could not quite bring the words out she so desperately wanted it too. So I watched my little angel…and I just wiped a tear away.
Isaac was in a nativity play for his first time ever. This time last year he was too ill to be part of anything. The year before that he wasn’t even walking. His only part in this years show was to be part of the choir. That did tickle my humour when he is non verbal and not even signing. But he was included and that means everything. He required a memeber of staff on either side of him and a ball of scrunched up tissue paper to distract him and keep him seated but he was there. And what better outfit for him than to get to wear his beloved red school jumper. What a truly humbling experience to see children confined to wheelchairs, coping with daily medical and developmental struggles, many of them non verbal, taking part in a school show to celebrate the birth of a special baby. Isaac saw us and smiled. He saw his twin and pointed. That to me was incredible. And once more I just wiped a tear away..
At his school party he actually allowed the staff to change him into his party clothes and take off his school jumper. And today I got to watch him request his snack using photos. For all his sleepless nights, screaming, loss of the only word he had, annoying habits like tipping boxes of toys on the floor then walking away…for all that and more, he is forgiven instantly because I am so incredibly proud of this boy.
His picture is proudly presented on the walls of the school. But he, of course, could never tell me that. The school didn’t allow cameras in to the school show today but I was allowed to photgraph this on the wall. A celebration of achievement. A Head Teachers award no less:
Christmas time always makes me that little bit more emotional. Children’s faces when they see they have presents they only ever dreamed of (in Isaac’s case a new unchewed jumper of course!), little voices singing classics like away in a manger, recieving unexpected gifts that show that someone cares, time with family that we never seem to see as often as we should, and food bought and cooked with others in mind. The season of giving and celebration.
It is so easy to get caught up in the pressure of buying and cooking and wanting to please everyone. The desire for it all to be special. But in it all just enjoy those moments of seeing a child smile, hearing a little voice sing and in celebrating what has been achieved this last year.
In the year that saw my baby boy start school, my daughter diagnosed with autism, my son diagnosed as vision impaired and endless form filling and meetings I am choosing to remember those special moments of achievement. While wiping a tear away with pride.