Saturday, January 30, 2010
Eyes two inches from the screen, fingers tapping on the keyboard, words and sentences, whole paragraphs and pages that make sense only to him. Talking to himself, wanting me in the room but not needing me for what he's doing, he says, "Mom? Will the dog come to school with me?"
I look up from my book and say, "Well, I don't know. I'm not sure you'd need the dog to come to school, why?"
"Don't dogs go to school sometimes?" he asks.
"Yes, sometimes they do, for people with disabilities."
"Do I have a disability?"
"Kind of," I answered and immediately regretted that TFBS non-answer answer.
But it satisfied him.
And it kind of satisfies me.