Yasin is now 4 years old. And still immobile. So, we have to carry him upstairs and downstairs and around the house. I don’t complain against that. It’s just sad that I, AF, won’t be able to carry him any longer. He slides down people’s laps and arches and sways his back. It’s difficult to hold him. He often suddenly bangs his head on to the floor. Helping him exercise and do his therapy will be more difficult. And it’ll be harder for us to hug him. In case you didn’t know, Yasin is not really someone who hankers after hugs and kisses. He is getting stronger, and with that comes the complications of self-harm. He hits and bites himself and others. Unintentionally, of course. But sometimes, he is so frustrated that he cannot tell his body what to do that he acts out in this way. I am sometimes angry at him that he is harder to manage, but after that I feel intense guilt, because how could it be his fault? Don’t get me wrong, I would love for him to grow and develop, but it also means letting go. Next year, he will have to be in school full-time. He might be ready, but we’re not. My mother would love to have some time for herself, and let Yasin be in the hands of competent teachers. But still, it will be hard. I will be in university next year, and won’t be able to see Yasin as frequently as I do now.
On a happier note, Yasin has made some real progress at school. You can check out How’s Yasin Doing? and Quotidian Pleasure #3: School for more details. We’re all happy with his new haircut, and his way of greeting other people by grunting and occasionally, shrieking. I am not so sure of my faith, but if I was, I would say that Yasin is a blessing.