His world without dangers

Jaja is the youngest in the family. A little boy full of life, endearing, and a real challenge for our parents' hearts. If you are looking for a label or a clear diagnosis, you will not find anything. Doctors have ruled out autism, they are testing the waters, searching, but in the end... they do not know. For them, it is a 'medical mystery.' He is just him.

There was this episode, when he was 2 and a half years old. A complete 'reboot,' as one might call it. From one day to the next, he stopped speaking. Radio silence. For more than a month, Jaja's world became silent. And then, just as suddenly, speech came back. And this time, it was us who remained speechless, but above all relieved. It was the first lesson of a long series: with Jaja, you have to learn to let go of what you cannot control.

But if there is one thing that we do control (or that we try to control!), it is safety. This little free electron has no notion of danger. Zero. For him, the world is an open playground, without limits. The last time, while his father was talking to his teacher, he decided, without warning, to go 'for a walk.' He simply disappeared in a fraction of a second.

There was this episode, too, near the river. A magnetic, almost sickly attraction to water for as long as we can remember. We had to catch him in extremis. It was that day that we decided to enroll him in swimming lessons. We cannot put him under a bell jar, so we give him the tools to navigate this world that attracts him so much. Now, he tries from time to time to breathe underwater... just in case... perhaps on a misunderstanding, Mother Nature might offer him a pair of gills for his birthday. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say!

It’s a daily life made of second-by-second attention. We are always on edge, always on alert. It can be exhausting, nerve-wracking. But as soon as we look at him, everything is forgotten. Because above all, he is just luminous, he laughs at nothing, he tells jokes so bad they are actually funny.

He is also this little boy who needs to be reassured. 'Mom, are you angry with me?', 'Mom, do you still love me?', 'I love you infinity times infinity... that's a lot!'.

He needs to know, again and again, that our love is unconditional, that he is safe with us. It’s paradoxical: he charges headfirst toward danger, but he needs this emotional anchor to be okay.

He isn't like other children, and he probably never will be. But he is ours, with his silences, his escapes, his fears, and his immense need for tenderness. We move forward, one step at a time.

Have I told you about his passion for ants?