It was 7AM. Wil was lying on his back with his chin jutted up and mouth wide open; soft snores were given free passage. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder. I felt his body give a quick shudder of awakening then his mouth snapped shut and he flipped his face to the wall, all without opening his eyes. He knew it was time to wake up for school.
Getting Wil out of bed is not the process it used to be. Last year some days could take thirty minutes of creative coaxing. And even that would not ensure a productive day at school. This year, however, his maturity has expanded. He’s had time to grow into his changing hormones that blossomed a year ago. He’s well into his second year at the middle school where the teachers, his paraprofessional and environment were all new to him. Consistency is everything to Wil.
When in-person school was halted because of the pandemic last spring, Wil realized within himself the consistency he needed. Friday has always been Wil’s favorite day of the week and lunch has always been his favorite subject. How can you beat pepperoni pizza day? But lunch time is not just about the food, it’s about time with friends. Time with friends at school is what Wil missed the most during virtual schooling. Wil is just as excited for Fridays as he ever was, but now he’s excited for every other in-person school day too.
Though our morning process has dramatically shortened due to Wil’s growing maturity and his boosted appreciation of in-person school, Wil is still, well, Wil. To motivate Wil, you must be on the same page as Wil. Force only sets you back; but an offer of a piggy-back ride may get you where you want to go. Negotiation falls flat; but bribes can be counted on. If he put the amour on tight that day, a sure-fire way to put a chink in the chains is through silliness.
“Waky, waky, Wil.” I started tickling him.
“Ok, ok,” he laughed, his head still turned to the side. “I’m up.” Then he fake snored. I laid across him perpendicularly, arched on my back, and let out some good ol’ cartoonish snores complete with a whistle (the only thing missing was a feather floating up and down).
“Hey moooom!” I kept snoring, ignoring him. Wil sat up in bed and pushed me off. “It’s time to get up!” I made a dramatic rolling fall to the floor. I knew now our morning was rolling in a forward direction.
“Mom, hug!” Wil never gets out of bed without a hug. Wil insists on it, and I never want him to stop. Because it’s what makes me stop.
Before Wil was born, I thought raising a child with an extra chromosome meant you were born with something extra, too. But that’s not the case. It’s in taking the time to understand Wil’s way of thinking, and jumping full-in, that adds extra value to my everyday life. Complete with extra daily hugs to back up that extra-awesome fact.