Perhaps You Know My Son
By Lorie St.Amand

Perhaps you know my child.

You may have met him at a playground, in a classroom, on a soccer team.

He's the one that you notice first –

not for his obvious beauty or his brilliant smile (which he does have)

but for his energy,

his activity,

his loud voice,

his actions,

his outbursts. 

He's the child you stare at in disbelief and say "Wonder who HIS parents are?"

He's the child you roll your eyes at and think; "Someone needs a spanking."

He's the child you tell the teacher, the coach, the group leader that you don't want YOUR perfect child sitting near. 

He's the child you wish weren't in your child's group or even in your class.

Yes, perhaps you know my child. 

But then, perhaps you don't. 

 You turn your head before you ever saw the tears and pain in his eyes

as you drag your child away from him saying, "don't play with THAT boy."

You haven't sat with him for hours as he raged against you, the world, his toys, his life

 then cuddled with you for hours afterwards as confused about his behavior as you are. 

 You haven't seen him walk in from school with shoulders down and head drooped saying
"I didn't get invited to the party," with adult resignation.
 
You haven't watched him secretly as he gently clasped a butterfly to his cheek to feel its wings flutter softly. 

You haven't heard him whisper prayers to God to help him be a "good boy and to stop being bad". 

Yes - I'm sure you've met my child along the way.   

But I don't think you really KNOW him.