Yesterday, Shane said to me, “Mom, since I don’t see Daddy very often, can I have some special time with him today or tomorrow?”
“I think so,” I told him. “Perhaps you should ask Daddy.”
Bill was sitting right next to me. He didn’t ask Bill. And Bill, of course, didn’t hear the question. He was on the computer, otherwise focused.
“Bill,” I said, “did you hear that?”
“Huh? What?” Bill mumbled, looking away from the computer screen, as if we had distracted him from something very important.
“Shane would like to have some special time with you,” I told him. “Do you think you could do that?”
“Sure,” Bill said. “Just give me a few minutes.”
Eventually, they had some special time together. They went shopping for Pokemon cards and Shane was happy as could be. But I had to wonder how their special time works together.
Dylan has ADHD, and he has been diagnosed with it, so Bill probably has ADHD, too. He’s never been diagnosed, but the more I learn about Dylan, the more I learn about Bill.
For whatever reason, it is incredibly frustrating with Bill. I feel like he should have outgrown some of this disorganization, this inability to hear what’s being said to him – or even around him. Like he should be over it by now. Like it’s his fault, since he hasn’t figured out a better way to be.
I never worry about Bill and Dylan together. They think the same way. They communicate the same way. Dylan is never ignored – or if he is, he doesn’t notice it.
Shane, however, thinks differently. Between vision processing disorder and his generally quiet, focused, philosophical demeanor, Shane is different than Bill.
We were in a line for a ski lift this weekend for half an hour. We got in the singles line, hoping it would be faster. Bill got in front of Shane and I was four people in front of Bill. I looked back several times. Not once did Bill turn around to talk to Shane, the little guy behind him, all alone in the line.
It was prime “special time” for the pair, but Bill didn’t even think about it. He was focused on getting to the front of the line, moving his skis three inches at a time.
I treasure that time with Shane – every moment that we’re stuck in a line together, or in a waiting room, or having nothing to do. We make up games, talk about our favorite things, plan for upcoming vacations (even if they’re months away).
Shane and I think the same way. It’s easy for us to have special time together – anytime.
Bill and Shane are going to have to find their own way, forge their own type of relationship.
Sometimes for me, though, it’s just painful to watch.