The Dawn Has Secrets
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep. - Rumi
The morning we brought up the sun marked another new beginning. It was the day you discovered your first loose tooth. You came barging into the bathroom while I was showering (picked the lock again) and crumpled into a heap of tears on the other side of the curtain.
I poke my head out and you lament, "I have a wobbly toooooooth...I think I broke it on a Lego!"
I smile and say, "It's not broken...you may be getting your new teeth...it means that the Tooth Fairy is coming".
Transitions can be difficult for you, newness can be unnerving...it's hard to predict which path you'll choose, joy or otherwise.
"But it's HORRIBLE!"
"But I don't want my teeth to fall out!"
"But I don't want new teeth!"
"But I don't want anything to change!"
"But I like everything just the way it is!"
We take you a local diner for breakfast to celebrate this rite of passage, your face still showing signs of earlier upset. When you cry your nose and forehead develop little red patches that linger for a spell after you've calmed down.
After breakfast you spot a gumball machine. First loose tooth - first piece of bubble gum. (Why not?)
"PINK!", you say, and I explain that you can't pick which color you get.
You open the silver door and a pink gumball rolls into your palm.
"Isn't that amazing", you say, "you tell the machine which color you want and you get it". You bite it in half and we share it.
At bedtime we read stories about wobbly teeth and we talked about creating a small door to make it easier for the Tooth Fairy. That night you wake me many times, as you often do during transitions. I have learned, during 5 1/2 years of being your mom, to roll with it. After you settle down to begin your dreams, I cannot go back to sleep. I begin my soft morning descent at 3:30 AM, dreaming with eyes open, wondering how I'll weather this long day. I rest my face into my bewooled hands and for one brief second I believe I smell my cat's fur.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep. - Rumi
The morning we brought up the sun marked another new beginning. It was the day you discovered your first loose tooth. You came barging into the bathroom while I was showering (picked the lock again) and crumpled into a heap of tears on the other side of the curtain.
I poke my head out and you lament, "I have a wobbly toooooooth...I think I broke it on a Lego!"
I smile and say, "It's not broken...you may be getting your new teeth...it means that the Tooth Fairy is coming".
Transitions can be difficult for you, newness can be unnerving...it's hard to predict which path you'll choose, joy or otherwise.
"But it's HORRIBLE!"
"But I don't want my teeth to fall out!"
"But I don't want new teeth!"
"But I don't want anything to change!"
"But I like everything just the way it is!"
We take you a local diner for breakfast to celebrate this rite of passage, your face still showing signs of earlier upset. When you cry your nose and forehead develop little red patches that linger for a spell after you've calmed down.
After breakfast you spot a gumball machine. First loose tooth - first piece of bubble gum. (Why not?)
"PINK!", you say, and I explain that you can't pick which color you get.
You open the silver door and a pink gumball rolls into your palm.
"Isn't that amazing", you say, "you tell the machine which color you want and you get it". You bite it in half and we share it.
At bedtime we read stories about wobbly teeth and we talked about creating a small door to make it easier for the Tooth Fairy. That night you wake me many times, as you often do during transitions. I have learned, during 5 1/2 years of being your mom, to roll with it. After you settle down to begin your dreams, I cannot go back to sleep. I begin my soft morning descent at 3:30 AM, dreaming with eyes open, wondering how I'll weather this long day. I rest my face into my bewooled hands and for one brief second I believe I smell my cat's fur.
Labels: book basket: bedtime, ds, SPD
2 Comments:
A milestone for sure. :) And I know what it's like to dream with your eyes open.
"Met" you today at the Be Out There call, and my son also has sensory issues.
lovely woman. xoxo
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