Last night I went into Ethan's room to tell him good-night. I sat by his bed and I told him that I was sorry he had such a boring day.
He woke up way too early and didn't seem to feel well. Not knowing what was going on, we canceled his physical therapy session. After we realized he was OK, we decided to take him swimming to get some exercise but a cloud came up and we figured they would close the pool.
Jim and I were busy trying to finish up some projects around the house, so Ethan had to do a lot of sitting.
When I told Ethan I was sorry he had a boring day, he told me he was used to it. My heart sank because I knew it was true. And although in his case it would be completely understandable, I wondered if he was going to be like his mom and throw himself a big pity party.
I asked him, "Ethan, if your days are so boring, why don't you ever complain? Why don't you ever fuss about it?"
He said, "How many people have it a lot worse than me?"
No, he's not very much like his mom. Not much at all.
Remember when I shared with you in another post that when Ethan was younger I use to tell him that when I grew up I wanted to be just like him?
Well, I still do.