Finian was supposed to go to Youth Club this morning. He hasn't been for a few weeks and was really looking forward to it.
But this morning he was glued to his bed.
The shoulder of a reinforced crowbar wasn't enough to disengage him from his duvet.
The lure of a spin to Drogheda wasn't sweet enough to entice him from the arms of slumber.
Even the promise of hot chocolate failed to cut through the layers of indolence.
He gave the conscious world a Hard No.
For a few minutes I cajoled, threatened and bargained. Nothing. I tossed my self-respect in the bin, and begged. Silence. I considered bringing out the big guns and crying.
Then I caught sight of myself from the third person. I saw the absurdity of trying to force a tired young man to attend a club when he'd clearly rather rather sleep. It's his choice to spend his down time as he choses.
Stepping back from making choices for our special needs kids is a tricky two-step. We spend so much time advocating for them that making decisions on their behalf becomes second nature. It's easy to mindlessly impose our choices on them, no matter how unwelcome.
Special needs kids already have little enough autonomy, without us devouring the scraps that remain. Even when well intentioned, it's not cool.
So I let him sleep.
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