Without a Word

When I picked Teddy up from school on Friday for music therapy, the administrative assistant in the office told me, "Teddy is just the sweetest boy." She proceeded to explain that sometimes she helps get Teddy into the building in the morning if no one else is available. She said that when she opens the door and informs Teddy he's stuck with her that he lights up with his smile every time. Then she said that every time it makes her feel special and brightens her day.

This kid brings so much joy (along with all the stress).

That's the type of enthusiasm and joy Teddy has for life. When I came home late one evening this week and walked in the door, Teddy literally started jumping up and down because he was so excited to see me. Who else jumps for joy just to see you on a Thursday when they saw you 12 hours earlier? (I'm not going to lie. I still love that he can jump.)

The school nurse was also in the office, and I commented that I heard she had Teddy's kindergarten teacher visit while Teddy was at her office for his lunchtime medicine. She chuckled and said Teddy was pointing at her office chair that day, so she realized he wanted to sit in her chair. She not only let him sit in her chair, but then she pushed him out of the office and down the hall to his class. What other child could convince an adult to give them a ride down the hall like that ... without saying a word?

Before I left the office, Teddy's principal introduced herself since we've been chatting about the support and inclusion opportunities at Teddy's school and whether they have enough resources. She echoed their sentiments about how much she enjoys Teddy.

What was part of my routine every Friday was made special by others sharing how much they enjoy Teddy. And that is my ultimate goal for Teddy at school: I want him to be loved and accepted for who he is and what he can do. And it's clear that he is.