Parenting a disabled tween remains to be parenting a tween
Two words. Two words that popped up on the screen of her communication device were enough to confirm the fact that I actually have a tween in my house. I mean, there were other things that somehow brought this to my attention. There was slamming the bedroom door by forcibly rolling her wheelchair in when I sent her into her room, locking herself in to her bedroom – again by rolling her wheelchair in the door until it closed, then “parked” behind it so no one could enter – and, oh, how could I forget the tears that flowed that Thursday afternoon and just wouldn’t stop. When I asked her what was going on, all I could do was keep typing “I don’t know” into her communication device. But this declaration that I am impossible? Well that sealed the deal! I graduated from Mean Mom to IMPOSSIBLE MOM.
