Shattering Dreams ...and Dishes

One of the trickiest parts of raising Noah is that he cannot clearly tell us how he feels. Happy, sad, angry, annoyed he feels them all, but good luck figuring out which one. We are working with a behavioral therapist to help him identify emotions, but progress is slow. Some days he is given four emotion cards and asked how he feels. He usually picks “happy.” He could be actively bursting into flames, and still he would point to “happy.”

Take this morning. He finished breakfast and then casually frisbeed his plate onto the hardwood floor. Not the first time. Not even the second. He knows what happens. Ceramic meets wood. Plate explodes. No tantrum. No warning. Just a quiet decision to bring some chaos into the morning.

Now I am considering plastic plates again, which feels ridiculous. This child uses a fork and knife like a tiny British lord. He has better table manners than any of his sisters. So why is he throwing dishes like a Greek wedding guest?

Open to suggestions. Or ceramic sponsorships.

When emotions are hard to express,

sometimes the plate has to take one for the team.