Several months ago my son badly bruised his heel while having a seizure. As he walked around the house before school, it was a pattern of grimace, smile, grimace, smile, grimace, smile, grimace, smile. Then when he found his special chair and got the weight off his foot, he sang.
It was amazing to watch. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before.
He wasn’t trying to put on a brave face; he isn’t capable of doing that. What he’s feeling inside comes out on his face and through his voice. His foot really hurt, and he was really happy.
His example puts me to shame. Most likely, I would have given into the temptation to let the world know how miserable I was over a bruised he…