I love you, Mom.
Four words. So simple. And yet Sean won't say them.
I tried again this morning. We were heading out the door to school, my title of "Ultimate Fashionista" clearly intact in my fleece pajama pants, old sweatshirt and flip-flops.
"I love you, Sean."
"Love you" was grunted back from somewhere between the house and the mini-minivan.
"I love you, Mom," I said back to him.
Hmmm.... grunted AND annoyed.
I dropped him off at school and hoped for the best.
Sean's tone has always... geez... how do I describe it? Well, it's always sucked. It's gruff. It sounds like he's perpetually annoyed with the world. He's often mistaken as being rude.
We've tried. Oh man, have we tried.
Even last night as we called out to him that it was time to shut off his light and go to sleep, his "O....KAAAAAA" came across as less than pleasant.
"Sean, watch your tone."
I've tried over the years to soften his tone. When he responds "Ok," I respond back, "Ok, Mom." It's that extra little syllable that seems to help. When he says, "Love you," to me, I almost always say, "I love you, Mom," back.
He ignores me. Absolutely ignores me.
It could be his autism. It could be his adolescence. It could be both. I don't know.
But what I do know is this.... there won't be any whispered sweet nothings behind the bleachers anytime soon.
It's not that my handsome, brilliant boy won't be the object of some teenage girl's affections. No, it's not that at all.
Sean can't whisper.
Simple as that.