The On and Off Switch

Part of neurological disorders is that the brain can be sending out so much uncontrollable energy on its own through the nervous system that, at the end of the day (literally), the body has no more of its own energy left and is just operating on the "fumes" of nervous impulses.

Think of it in terms of being so exhausted by the end of the day physically, but your brain won't shut up and so you have difficulty getting to sleep.  Now imagine that in a 4-year-old.

Every.
Damn.
Day.
Of.
His.
Entire.
Life.

We who are in our 20s, 30s, 40s, and beyond every so often have reprieve, because chances are that those fits of nerves come from our daily routines -- job, chores, errands, social obligations, etc.  Henry doesn't.  He doesn't have the luxury of being able to take a sick day to unplug and unwind (and thus, by extension, neither do we).

This is how his brain is wired, which means that, short of chemical intervention, he can't escape from it.

But this post isn't meant to be a downer or to bum everyone out.  It's meant to set the stage for a cute moment that just occurred (because we have to take these moments every chance we get).

Henry was clearly falling asleep while playing because he had nothing left, physically.  His body was cashed out but his mind kept going.  It got to that delicate point where even though he was trying very hard to remain engaged, his physical being had had enough.  So it was time for bed.

I called out, "Henry, bed time!"

He may be non-verbal and very delayed in communication and comprehension, but he knows certain terms, words, and phrases.  "Bed time" is one of them (as is "bath time," thankfully).

I walked up the stairs and he tried to sit up....and failed.  He curled up into a ball, forehead to kitchen floor.  "Bed time," I said again, gently.

He struggled mightily to push himself up to his feet.  He got up, and made the semi-circle around me toward the stairs.....and misjudged his turn radius.  He was so tired that he turned too wide and nearly crashed face-first into the wall.  Luckily, he stopped himself just in time, but it was enough.

I grabbed both his hands and helped him up the stairs into his room.  He collapsed onto his bed, and, as per our nightly routine, I tried to lift the bottom half of his body onto his bed and he started giggling because he's just naturally ticklish.  I flopped him into bed, gave him his monkey, pulled his comforter over him, patted his head and said "good night."

This was about 15 minutes ago.  He's already asleep.