My poor little man needed a do-over day today. Along with having Sensory Processing Disorder, he can often have a bad night’s sleep. When I got up this morning at 4:30am, to pee, the little man was awake and had been for a while. Because he still can’t tell time very well, it doesn’t occur to him to look at a clock when he wakes up; so I don’t know if he had been up 2 hours or maybe only 1/2 hr. when I woke up.
I tried to get him to go back to sleep. No go. I crashed for another few hours.
When it came time to go to school, I was met with, “I don’t feel well. I don’t think I can go to school. My tummy hurts, my head hurts, and I’m tired.” Because I hear some variety of this on practically a daily basis, I tell the little guy that I’m sorry that he doesn’t feel well, but he still has to go to school, and I’ll be taking him in 10 minutes. (This is the morning I go in for my weekly volunteering.)
The first thing my son does during his school day is join a small group of Special Ed. kids who all go for a short run. Usually he loves this. Not this morning. He had fallen on one of his knees yesterday, so a hurting knee was added to his list of woes. I told him to go join his regular class, as I ran after the Special Ed. teacher to let her know that he wouldn’t be running. Her snarky comeback was such that I didn’t think my little man needed to deal with her attitude today, especially in his unusually delicate state. She’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy, gentle type.
For some reason, I too, was unusually tired this morning. After doing some photocopying for teacher, my next assignment was to pull kids from the class, one by one, to have them read to me. I pulled my son first. He wasn’t doing well and really wanted to go home. As we shared the reading material, I decided that we both needed to go home and get a do-over. So, I told my son’s teacher that he had a migraine (which I am sure that he would have developed if he had stayed there), and we both left.
It was the right decision today. I didn’t want to be there either.