However, those fifty minutes are very draining on my little guy. He is forced to consistently pay attention and make his muscles do things he would rather not do. When he comes out of neurotherapeutics, two things usually happen: he cries hysterically that he is not ready to leave Miss Sally Ann, and he begins a day-long meltdown. His brain simply cannot handle any more stress, and he throws tantrums at the smallest and simplest of things.
Next, he moves into what I call the "check-out" stage. Davey moves into his own little world, a faraway place that is very hard to reach. It is difficult to get him to obey simple instructions and impossible to have any sort of conversation with him. This is a time when he often does inexplicable things, like tearing all of the pages out of his favorite book. He may also sit in a corner and start reciting lines from one of his favorite movies or TV shows.
By evening, he will reach the "ridiculous" stage. My Davey will sit on the floor laughing hysterically at nothing. There have been times when he has lain on the floor in the middle of a store, eyes glassed over as he giggled uncontrollably. Besides the crazy laughter, he also makes strange noises and grunts a lot.
Last night, after our midweek church service, I had to stop at the store for milk and a few other items. David was in "ridiculous" mode by that point, which made us the receiving end of many stares, glares, and rude comments. I kept telling myself that I didn't care what these strangers thought - there was no way they could possibly understand anyway.
And then this morning I read this post. Her simple but compassionate words touched my heart and reminded me of the extraordinary task God gave us when He gave us Davey. Today I am so thankful for God's unconditional love and blessings. It's the same way I love my son. Unconditionally and without reserve. So who really cares what other people think?