Rude Awakening

Forty-five minutes.

Max woke up screaming this morning and pretty much continued, non-stop, for forty-five minutes.

I timed him. I know.

He was screaming because he slept later than usual. Typically he’s up around 6 and gets at least an hour to himself to watch TV, play and hang out before Ari gets up to join him and cast her vote for which cartoon to watch.

He became distraught when I told him it was 6:45, insisting that it was “too late” and that there was no way he could go to school. I thought he was upset that he missed whatever show he likes to watch at the ungodly hour of 6 am. It wouldn’t have been the first time he called me “an idiot” for “making” him miss his shows. One could see how it was my fault he missed the shows as I was, oddly enough, sleeping at 6am.

But it wasn’t about that.

I think the fact that it’s light out earlier throws him off—in colder months he’s used to waking up while it’s still pitch black out. So when he sees the sun is out he figures it’s “too late.”

Too late for what?

My theory is that the simple act of waking up at a different time than usual doesn’t sit well with his compulsive tendencies. Things have to be done a certain way. When he and I walk from the bedrooms to the family room every morning, he insists on holding my hand. My left hand. Only my left hand. It’s not enough for us to walk next to each other. This has nothing to do with Max wanting to feel close to me; this is about chemical imbalances and obsessive-compulsive behaviors.

Forty-five minutes. He alternated between general moaning and berating me for letting him sleep too late and ruining everything. His whole body writhed as if he was overcome with physical pain.

Nothing I said or did had any affect on calming him. We’ve been dealing with these irrational moments long enough for me to know—but not always have the strength to do so—to just step back and let him scream it out. Talking to him only prolongs the episode. Threats of losing his Game Cube exacerbate the situation. There’s really nothing else to do but let him scream.

So I did.

For forty-five minutes.