In Wil’s Words

Wil and I laid on our sectional couch just before bedtime. Our heads together, we made a right angle given that we are almost the same height from top to bottom. My boy is growing up. 

“Mom, we read ‘The Shoemaker.’” I smiled. It takes quiet moments like these for Wil to initiate a conversation. 

“The Shoemaker? Was that in Ms. Kennedy’s class?” (Ms. Kennedy is Wil’s new resource room teacher.)

“Yes, up on the screen.” 

“Did you read it with the whole class?”

“Yes. There were elves.”

“Elves? Were they helping make the shoes?”

“Yes. They are cute.” Wil tilted his head closer to mine and smiled up at me.

“You are cute too.”

“I know.”

 “Tell me how the elves made the shoes.”

At quiet times like these, when Wil’s words are flowing and forthcoming, I wonder how many stories Wil keeps locked inside when the world is moving too fast for him. Wil is quick to laugh with his friends and interjects when he has something to say, but he rarely expands on his thoughts unless the time is laid out openly in front of him. When conversations are moving fast, as they typically do during the day, Wil is prone to stutter. Wil knows exactly what he wants to say but his words don’t come out fast enough and he gets stuck. “Use your soft voice, Wil,” is a cue we learned from Mrs. Charney, one of Wil’s speech therapists. Using his “soft voice” gives Wil the feeling of time and space laid out in front of him for his words to flow into.

When Wil is not forthcoming about his day (he is a teenager, after all), the topic of lunch usually gets the conversation rolling. Lunch revolves around his two favorite subjects: food and friends. Wil easily offers, in great detail, the day’s menu and the friends he sat with at the lunch table: “Seeger, Lila, Ashely, Sarah, Lilly…” This group of friends is gold, and happen to be 100% female. One of Wil’s homework assignments asked, “What do you want to do when you are an adult?” He thought about it for a moment and answered, “Football player.” 

“Hmmm, that’s an interesting answer.” I said. “You don’t play football. Do you want to learn how?”

“No.” 

“I’m pretty sure you have to know how to play football to be a football player. What else would you like to do?” 

“Get married.” 

“I’m not surprised to hear that. I hope whoever you marry loves listening to your stories as much as I do, Wil.”

“You are silly, Mom.”

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