max
The view is stellar. The house is on the crest of a ridge and the whole valley is laid out in front of us. Lounging in a recliner next to the pool, soaking up sun and sipping a gin and tonic -- what could be more perfect? I let out a deep, relaxed sigh and close my eyes – contentment.
I hear something. Little feet swishing in the grass, little vocal noises in rhythm with the steps, and then I feel the touch of a warm little hand on my arm. It is Max, the 7-year-old child of the house. He looks at me and says “chittik, chittik, chittik” and gently tugs my arm. I tell him that I don’t know “chittik”. He just repeats it over and over and tugs some more. So I get up and let him pull me into the house, through the kitchen, to the fridge. He pulls it open, grabs a plastic package and hands it to me. Kraft cheese sticks. Aah – chittik. So I struggle with the packaging for a bit and hand him the snack. He takes it, turns and skips along to his room. I amble back to my lounge chair somewhat deflated from my previous content state. As I stretch out, I hear Max approaching again. This time he has his favorite toy with him. It is a yellow half sphere, the size of a medium watermelon, with various shapes in different colors all over it. Of course, it is an electronic gizmo. A childish sing-song voice says “Follow the flashing light!”, then “Yellow triangle!” Max puts the toy at the foot of the lounger and works the device. After watching for a while I have it figured out. The toy is encouraging Max to recognize the triangle by its shape or by its color, and push the button in the middle of the shape. When he does this, there is enthusiastic applause and an exclamation “Yellow triangle!” But Max does not push the yellow button. He pushes the green one, or the one in the hexagon, or the purple square. This seems to reset the device and makes it propose another task, |
with the same, unrelated result.
Max does not seem to profit from the educational toy. But he does enjoy making it produce friendly noise. He does not seem to care about the colors or the shapes, he is content making the toy repeat its instructions over and over and over again. Max seems to like being near me, but does not engage me in his game. He needs me, or someone else, only when he wants something he cannot get himself. Max’s father appears and bundles him up, toy and all, and makes excuses about Max bothering me. He hugs the child and carries him back to the house, snuggling him and gently whispering to him along the way. He works from home while his wife is at work all day as a schoolteacher. He runs a successful engineering consulting business while also watching and minding Max, who needs 24/7 supervision. I have known him since he was a two-year-old tike. A brilliant youngster who then turned into a driven super achiever and then into a narcissistic, annoying blowhard braggart. But that is behind us now. Having Max, having to cope with his deficits, humbled him and he no longer brags. I not only like him again, I admire him. I am not sure I would be up to meet his challenge the way he is able to. I am reminded of the time when we first decided to start a family. We were off to a difficult start with my wife having two miscarriages before becoming pregnant with our daughter. Before she was born I was worried – no, terrified – what if we were to have a child who was anything less than brilliant? When Indrani was about three months old I found her one day in her bassinet with her mouth open and her tongue protruding. A classical sign of Down’s syndrome! I frantically called to make an appointment to see our pediatrician. He listened to me explain what I thought, looked at Indrani for three seconds, then recommended that I have myself committed to a mental institution... |
Later, on the couch in the living room, I am checking email on my iPad. Max crosses the room, skipping and quickly shaking both hands at shoulder level, a string of nonsense syllables trailing after him. But he notices the iPad and he turns on a dime and comes. He reaches for the tablet and while I am holding one side and he the other, he pushes the home button and swipes at the screen to look for apps he can recognize. I have only one game on this device and he locates it in 2 seconds and tries to fire it up. I tell him no, he cannot do that now. After trying to pull the device a bit longer he lets go and carries on skipping away, as though nothing had happened.
|
During all this he never looked at me, only at the tablet.
If I were in his father’s shoes perhaps I could find the strength somewhere to cope, even though I cannot imagine how. There is little else I can think about during the several days of this visit. What a humbling experience. I make a vow to remember this when I feel unhappy, disappointed, or cheated in the future. A vow to remind myself that what I consider misery or misfortune simply pales compared to real misery or misfortune so many others have to cope with daily. |