Shoes

I knew I was doomed the moment I looked over the selection at Stride Rite. No blue new balance tennis shoes in sight. I checked the sales rack with no luck. I took a deep breath and gave Jimbo the "look". The one that says, "brace yourself, we are in for a bumpy ride."

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Purchasing something as simple as shoes for the new school year probably doesn't register on the "oh no" radar for most parents. Most just make the trip with their child, pick out a pair of shoes, pay for it, and go home. That is exactly what I did when I took trips with Arwen, back before Logan started showing signs that something was a bit different about him.

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I finally selected two pairs to try. Each were black, one with more leather than the other. The store was packed with children and parents so it took a few minutes for a sales person to come to us. I had her measure and fit Vincent first. He sat patiently until she was finished and then hurried back to the play area.

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Taking a deep breath I nodded and Jim began to lead Logan over. I sat him down and as the sales woman reached for his foot, Logan immediately started crying. I explained a tad louder than necessary that he is autistic and would settle down as soon as we had finished. I quickly removed each shoe and helped her measure his feet. With each passing minute he became more agitated. After being measured we had to wait for her to find shoes in his size. Logan continued to be distressed and I tried my best to calm him.

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When she finally returned, he was inconsolable. He didn't scream or thrash, only continued to cry and point to the familiar worn blue shoes on the floor. His voice came out soft and forlorn, "shoes, shoes!"

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During this I looked up briefly. I'm not sure why. I think I knew we had an audience. Sitting directly across from us was a father, wife and little boy. The child appeared to be Logans age and was being fitted by the other attendant. I noticed the father was staring directly at my son.

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The disdain in his eyes was openly readable. I returned his look with one of my own before focusing on the task at hand. After we decided on the cloth pair and made sure they fit well, I grabbed the worn shoes my son loves so much and put them back on. The instant they wrapped around his foot his crying stopped and he was again the calm, happy child we adore.

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Logan gave me his special smile and ran to join Vincent and Jim. As I grabbed the shoe boxes I looked at the man and his family beside me. I've seen the "look" from people before when Logan is thrown out of his comfort zone. This was the reason I spoke so loudly when explaining why he was crying to the woman assisting us.

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I smiled at them and tried to be polite. "He's autistic and doesn't do well with change. This is how he reacts when being taken outside of his comfort zone".

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I could tell immediately this father wasn't expecting to be approached or called out on his staring. I'd caught him off guard and he tried to recover by acting as if he totally understood. "Oh, I thought I heard you say that." He plastered a fake smiled across his face and I found myself fuming.

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But instead of taking the issue further, I walked to the register and paid for the new shoes. We all walked out together hand in hand, my wee man and wonder boy laughing along the way. As I looked at my boys it occurred to me (as it often times occurs to me at random) that I wouldn't trade away any part of my life.

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Logan requires a softer touch and a gentle patience but in doing so brings out the calm and sensitive side of me. He allows me to see how lovely simple things are, even if they are a worn pair of blue shoes. He reminds me that things are as special as you make them. He reminds me of just how lucky I am to be his Mother.