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I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Established Protocol

Like the majority of school-aged children and working adults, I have come to dread Monday morning. Since I work from home and my assignments require attention seven days a week, the advent of another Monday on the calendar means little to me. However, Monday marks the beginning of another school week and the end of a weekend which leaves Robby disgruntled and miserable.

Every Monday morning proceeds the same way: during breakfast Robby and I talk about the day and what we have planned. Although he went to bed on Sunday fully aware that the next day was a school day, he always seems surprised when going to school is part of his schedule. As soon as the words "go to school" come out of my mouth, the drama begins.

Robby begins lamenting, whining and fretting about going to school. Employing logic by reminding him that he has a good time, likes his classmates and enjoys learning, is fruitless. Every Monday morning, over a bowl of Frosted Flakes, my little guy dissolves before my eyes.

Although it tugs at my heartstrings when I see him so upset, I also know that the solemn mood lifts as soon as he steps into his school. I've spent countless Monday mornings worrying about him after I dropped him off only to discover that he had forgotten to be upset as soon as I left. I've been trying to keep his grief-riddled response to the end of the weekend in perspective and trust that he is okay once the school day begins. 

Yesterday morning, in the middle of his habitual beginning of the school week breakdown, I asked (rhetorically) if we had to go through this drama every single Monday. Apparently Robby does not yet understand the concept of rhetorical questions, because he looked up and said, "Yes Momom. We do have to go through this drama. I believe it is the established protocol for a Monday morning."

Turning my head so that he couldn't see me smile, I remembered the conversation he was referencing. Back in October, exhausted by the daily "I don't want to go to school" drama, I told Robby that he could only be upset one day a week. He chose Monday. Apparently he hadn't forgotten the deal we had made!  I think next year I am going to amend our agreement and allow him to be upset on Sunday night. That way Scott can deal with it, and I can take a long hot bath!

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