Page 53 of The Foul Out

“No,” she bit out, the volume of her voice raising. “I want the normal milk.”

Any minute, Kyle would probably jump in. That had become his MO. But the best way for Piper to work through this was to work to calm herself down. Refocus her aggression into something else. Slowly, I stepped forward, still holding her wrist, and she stepped back, sayingnoonce again. I eased the almond milk onto the counter and took another step out of the room. We took it one step at a time all the way down the hallway to my room.

There, I said, “I want you to jump fifty times.”

She glared at me, then at the mini trampoline, but she obeyed. And with every bounce, the tension eased from shoulders.

“Fifty more,” I said when she finished the first set and was still frowning.

Time-out could be successful for many kids who needed to chill out. But Piper needed the outlet of expending energy. Sitting on a step or chair wouldn’t settle her. The anxiety and adrenaline flowing through her needed to be burned off. Her OT had suggested jumping instead. And it had been a lifesaver for me.

After the second set, when she was winded and her expression was neutral, I asked, “Can we talk about what you want to drink now?”

Piper sighed. “Water. And I want to watch my show while I eat.”

“Okay,” I agreed, guiding her back into the kitchen.

When we entered the room, expecting to find the dinner mess, I discovered the place had been organized. There were two plates on the counter, and Kyle and Sam were eating at the table. Normally, when Piper had a meltdown, Sam would have to wait it out. Sometimes, while she threw a fit and I talked her down, dinner burned, and I’d have to throw the whole thing away.

This sight and the vast difference in what happened today versus what dinnertime often looked like, made my chest constrict. I had to remind myself not to get used to this.

I didn’t want to be jaded, but I knew that the only person I could trust in life was me.

Once I got Piper settled with her dinner at the small table by the television, I grabbed my plate and moved to sit with the boys.

“How come she bees bad and then gets a special treat? She’s watching the Revs. Can I watchBluey? I wasn’t bad,” Sam complained, his little lips turned down.

Part of me wanted to say no, to insist he sit at the table, because I expected that behavior from him. But he was right. Itwas unfair, regardless of their differences. He was the one who behaved, and in his mind, he was being punished for it.

“I thought you wanted to eat with Kyle?” I’d given up on the battle to call him Mr. Bosco since Kyle was so opposed. He was so offended by the idea of being a mister that I wondered if he had an issue with getting older.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Kyle, then surveyed the television across the room. As he focused on his plate again, his mouth lifted at the corner. “I ate my nuggies with Kyle already. Now I eat my lima beans withBluey.”

Kyle chuckled, though he covered it up by coughing.

Hiding a smirk, I shook my head. “Fine. This time. But you know the rules. We eat together.”

Sam frowned but grabbed his plate and shuffled to the coffee table.

“It’s nice that you give him some grace.” Kyle watched Sam as he settled in. “I used to get so upset when I had to follow my own set of rules and expectations, rules that Ryan didn’t have to follow, then also have to follow the rules set in place for him too. We never got to have chocolate or sugar, and we didn’t go out to eat. We never went on vacation because Ryan’s therapies took every penny Mom made. Even if they hadn’t, Ryan couldn’t handle being away from home and his routines like that.”

I tried to be conscious of those issues, and I worked to make life as normal as I could for Sam, but it took a lot of juggling.

“I try.” With my fork, I moved the lima beans around my plate, head lowered.

For a moment, we sat in an awkward silence heavy with all that lingered between us.

I didn’t have the first clue what to talk about next, but anything would be better than the silence, so I went for it. “Thanks for not jumping in with Piper.”

Kyle set his fork down and studied me. “You had that handled. You didn’t need me getting in the way.”

I tracked his face, taking in the lines around his eyes and his tight lips, waiting for the moment he explained how I should have done it.

“I’m not trying to overstep or bulldoze.” He didn’t break eye contact. “You’re fully capable of dealing with Piper’s outburst and fits. She’s an incredible little girl, and that’s because of you.” He shrugged, his expression nothing but genuine.

But no one had ever described Piper that way before. She was difficult and trying and frustrating. And some days I felt like I was the only one who saw the good in her.

And here he was, telling me he saw it all. That made my heart swell and my eyes burn.

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