The amiable teen who joined us for games and meals during Blue Boy’s spring break disappeared. As Blue Boy headed south to Tucson, younger brother Mowgli retreated to his room, casting a gray cloud over our household. We are lucky to get a single-syllable reply to our greetings and questions.
A jigsaw puzzle sits on our kitchen island, a testament to one of ED’s favorite pastimes. Last year I gave both my daughters puzzle boards which include drawers to sort pieces. ED uses the first few hours of a puzzle organizing by colors and patterns making it easier for each of us to attempt to place pieces as we pass by.
While ED was out of town recently, Mowgli retreated from his computer games to emerge from his room and work on the puzzle. His hours of attention are evidence that kids with ADD can concentrate in the right environment. One morning I found the intricate puzzle completed, minus one piece. Assuming that Mowgli had overlooked the piece in a drawer, I searched, found the stray, and put it aside for him to place. Later, as I prepared supper and Mowgli heated up pizza bites (what else?) for himself, I pointed out the lone piece. I interpreted his grunt as ‘I know.’ Or maybe it was just a grunt. Either way it sparked an insight.
“Did you mean to leave it out?”
Grunt (yes).
“Was this to tease your mom?”
Grunt (yes).
“Cute.”
A pinprick of sunshine pierced the gray cloud, the cloud grayer as I recognized my focus on Mowgli's challenges rather than on his gifts. Being a grandma isn’t always easy.