Verbal manners are one thing we’ve always tried to teach Adrian. He’s pretty regular about asking for things using a verbal approximation, the sign or the button for please. But thank you is always required a prompt.
Until the other day. For the first time, Adrian thanked me for making his drink. Without a prompt. Without so much as a glance in his direction. He looked me straight in the eye and signed, “Thank you.”
Now I’m the grateful one 
Adrian let go the Dynavox last week and let it crash to the floor.
The good news: We got it working again. I backed up all his pages.
The bad news: Two days later, while sitting calming on a desk it gave out. “No Operating System Found” Not good.
So it’s packed up and ready to ship to Dynavox so they can repair it. I’m far more calm about the whole affair this time than I was last time we had a malfunction. Dynavox handed it all beautifully last time and I have faith they’ll do the same this time as well.
Adrian’s been out of control for about 3 weeks now. It’s been a rough. We think hormones are partly to blame. It’s been severe enough that we made the appointment to speak with the doctor about options. He’s very unhappy and his compulsive behaviors are preventing him from enjoying the things he usually finds calming and relaxing.
I was feeling awful weary from it all this afternoon when I picked Adrian up from school. Then, through the mirror, I watched as Zee and Adrian played. They shared a few cookies, they laughed and giggled. They played games where only the two of them understood the rules. Adrian’s communication device lay lifeless on the seat next to me, defeated by the blow Adrian gave it when he threw it through the air earlier today. Just another in the long line of things he’s broken in the past few weeks.
But these two brothers didn’t need words. They played and laughed and understood one another perfectly. They put their foreheads together and giggled at one another. It was a sight to behold and brought tears to my eyes.
See, despite the shattered window, broken baskets, cracked cabinets, the destroyed faucet and the constant slamming of doors and drawers… despite all the difficulties of the past few weeks, I was reminded that it’s really not all bad. Adrian is part of our family and we love him. The essence of Adrian is still in there, even when it’s hidden by a storm of rage and sadness.
Hopefully we can find a way to help him through this rough spot. But regardless what lies ahead, I won’t soon forget the image of brotherly love or the reminder about how lucky we are to have him.
