Mommy pink shirt

On Monday night Sam was having a rough time.  He was climbing furniture, madly dashing about pulling books and toys down on the floor, jumping on his bed and could not seem to settle himself down to a specific activity.  Even the computer was unable to gain his focus and lull him into a learning activity.  Before I knew it his behavior had me keyed up in a fevered pitch and I yelled for him to settle down. 

Sam looked up at me and said, "Mommy pink shirt" and pointed to his bed.

He wanted me to lay down on his bed with him.

So I moved his snakes and his pillow and blankets and laid my head on his pillow and he looked at me again and said, "No.  Mommy pink shirt  like this" and sat up on his bed with his back against the wall.

He wanted me to sit up against the wall on his bed.

So I did. 

He then crawled into my lap and snuggled his head against my chest and took my arms and wrapped them around him. 

He wanted me to hold him while he laid his sweet almost 7 year old head on my pink shirt.

It was a moment when my 7 year old breached the haze of his autism and told me exactly what he wanted.

I sat there for 10 minutes or more and watched his Baby Einstein DVD with him and I smoothed his soft curls behind his ear and very softly, almost inaudibly for fear he would stir, I whispered....

"Thank you"