He studies the calendar and adores the clock.
There is no 'around' or 'about' in his world. He has been needling me, interrogating me over our plans as the school year rounds out.
I swear I can hear his mind going through the paces, forming a circle that makes him feel whole and secure.
And I want him to be safe and sound in his body and his soul, but these questions wear me down. I answer and write things on the calendar, to ease his anxiety, but he doesn't let up.
I don't know how to parent him through these quirks, these obsessions. (I have plenty of neurotic behaviors, but this need to control an itinerary is not one of them.)
So, he begins the day, hounding me. Greg is long gone, motoring down the road at 4:30 and I feel like I did when they were just babies. Like such an amateur.
Why can't I fix this incessant need to discuss times, dates, plans?
I have a sneaking suspicion that if moving has got me a little unhinged - Ms. Spontaneous - the blank canvas next month must really be bothering him.
I apologize for being snappy. I am sad right now; some weeks are just harder than others.
The bus pulls away and the sob comes and I promise myself that I will figure out a way to get Zack through this move.