A flashback

Kiddo was around ten when I was telling them that they could do anything if they set their mind to it.

They said, "That's not true. I can't fly! I can't shoot fire out of my eyes!"

Another flashback

Many years ago, when kiddo was probably seven or eight, he incessantly watched television at my home while I worked. The cable was probably the first draw, and I'm sure the food and the lack of screaming and drama in our home was also a plus.

We started to realize that kiddo never laughed at words or signs in cartoons, like the Road Runner. Also, kiddo would stop on commercials like "The Phonics Game" and watch the whole thing rather than abruptly changing the channel like usual. Eventually we realized this bright kid couldn't read, and that Metro would never help him learn to read.

So one day I said "If you're serious about wanting to learn to read, we will help you. But I don't want an answer from you right now. I want you to think about it overnight. Then you can tell me what you want to do."

The next morning kiddo pounded on our door like usual, but when I opened the door they were wearing a shirt and tie. This kid lived in sweats and t-shirts, so this was quite a shock. I still remember the monster trucks all over the little kid tie.

I said "wow, you look nice, why are you so dressed up?"

Kiddo said "I wanted you to know I'm serious."

How could someone not spend tens of thousands on a kid like that. And read he did, and does. At the time his test scores in reading were in the single digits. After two years of the right instruction, he tested average in reading--a 600% increase.

If you teach a smart kid the right way, they can learn. I wish metro tried. But I will never regret the money we've spent on someone else's kid. What an amazing kid.

A flashback

When kiddo was quite young, they were at our home as they were virtually every day, all day long, all summer long. It had started getting to the point where my career was getting the life drained out of it because I was mothering this kid. Believe me, they needed it.

One day kiddo was watching TV as usual while I gamely tried to get some actual work done. I guess to understand this story fully, you need to understand that kiddo had probably been primarily reared at that point by being plunked in front of the TV as the real-life drama raged in their home. Something to do while others ignored them as usual. Kiddo was used to watching TV, and liked it just fine. At that time kiddo would say "when I grow up I'll probably work at McDonald's with my sister." Oh, to think of such narrow, dismal goals.

I knew at this point kiddo mostly came to our home for the cable, the food, and then gradually the conversation and learning that some people actually cared. But the TV was the big thing. Kiddo must have been around seven or eight at the time.

That day, a crisis of monolithic proportions took place: the cable went on the fritz. A snowy screen was the extent of the signal. An agitated young child, still trying to deal with all the justifiable anger and fear they felt about their life in general, doesn't need much to go over the top, and the cable situation agitated them no end.

So I said "okay, let me do something for you. I have a book here, and I'll read it to you." This was met with GREAT disappointment. A book? Why in the world would they want to hear a book? I wasn't very persuasive, I guess, but finally I said "let me read just one chapter to you, and then I promise I'll stop if you want."

I took a deep breath, gathered my composure, and opened "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe." At the end of the first chapter I said "okay, that's the end, I promised I'd stop now." And kiddo said "Please read me the next chapter." And so I did. And again, I said "Okay, that's the end." And again kiddo would ask for another. And another. And another. I was quite hoarse by the end of the day, as I either read the whole book or close to it.

A world of imagination that kiddo had quite clearly never before experienced had opened to them, and I believe this was the day they determined that they must be able to open books for themselves. The spiritual aspects of the book weren't lost on them, either.

What I haven't mentioned yet in this narrative is that kiddo is dyslexic. Very dyslexic, if dyslexia can be measured in degrees. And did I say they are also sharp as a tack and an advanced math student?

There's so much more to this story, but this was the day that I saw clearly that hubs and I had to fight for this young person. We clearly believed in them, and their biological family didn't. This was one of the first times I realized that the word "family" didn't have much of anything to do with genetics, if at all.

Perhaps I'll tell more of this very moving story later. Kiddo's quite an amazing person. In spite of all the heartbreak and agony involved in the process (not dealing with kiddo, dealing with kiddo's familiy), we are blessed to be a part of that young person's life.

I don't know how they're surviving right now, with the stress on them, and I admire their strength. But of course I am so worried and dear hubs acts just like a doting father, that is, a father with no control over the current firestorm.

This kid is amazing.