I always have a lot to say. Sometimes I can't articulate it as well as I intend to, and other times - well - to be honest, I think people can be slow to catch on. People with Angelman Syndrome cannot say what is on their mind, with their voices. They "might" have a lot to say, or they might not. My guess, is that it depends on their personality. I kind of think that Sean, my son who is 5, would still be fairly quiet most of the time, even if he had a voice of his own. He does make exclamations at certain points of the day, or during certain activities, but generally, he is a quiet one.
One of his such exclamations came tonight, when he giggled before bedtime. Normally this is not what would occur after a ceiling fixture crashes from the ceiling and shatters on a hardwood floor right next to the bed of a 5-year-old. But in Angelman world, it elicits a giggle. Thankfully, the giggler stayed in bed and did not do too much exploring.
I think this is the 3rd time that glass has broken in the house, and thankfully the only time it has broken in Sean's bedroom. I had to remove Sean from his bed, and take away his big blanket in case it might have tiny slivers of glass in it. I swept and mopped and went over the floor again. I opened the closet door, I cleaned behind everything - including the door to the hallway. Thankfully, I closed the main door before I finished up my cleaning because there were two large pieces of the ceiling fixture behind it, along with some smaller shards. I had to be forceful with my voice to keep my son out of harm's way as I cleaned up.
I am so thankful that he obeyed me, and stayed out of harm's way as I attempted to get every speck of glass dust, and I did not have to restrain him by putting him in a carseat or a stroller/wheelchair. Sean doesn't understand danger. He doesn't seem to understand that while glass is shiny, reflective and beautiful, it can also cause significant damage. Once he managed to get to an empty coffee pot while I was in the bathroom and I returned to the kitchen to find him playing with the broken pieces. Thankfully, he did not have any cuts and it was late, so I gave him a bath and put him to bed before I commenced to cleaning it all up.
Angelman Syndrome is real, it has its horrifying moments when you find your child near some broken glass, unaware of the danger that is so close. Angelman Syndrome also has moments of swollen pride when your child shares their joy with someone, and brightens another person's day beyond comparison.
I am thankful for my son and his endless joy. I do want to "make it all better" and give him the opportunity to express his thoughts, and better understand mine. I expect miracles to happen someday, and I expect my son to grow up and be somewhat independent, at least with his communication. But that's another story for another night.
