So, we found out when Tate was 3 that she has a sensory disorder. It made the first 3 years of her life (read: scream-fest 2005-2008) make sense. Girlfriend just didn't like - and let us know her feelings, loudly, forcefully and repeatedly - noises, light, movement, change in routine, certain textures, etc etc etc. ETC. We have since learned how to deal with it, and although she can still melt down over her shoes making her feet too hot (but Taylor, you can't be barefoot in church. I'm sorry, you just can't. Yes I know Jesus wore sandals...but for today, because it's winter and because I said so, you are not allowed to take your shoes off)...she deals, we deal.
Since learning about challenges like sensory disorder (and there are different kinds), I have diagnosed myself with one. Case in point - tonight, 5 minutes ago.
me - "Kevin, please. I can't listen to my show with the clickety-clacking sound you're making on your computer."
K - "Like the sound you're making?"
me - "No. Yours is different and it's annoying me."
2 minutes pass, both of us not clickety-clacking bc we don't want to be the loud one.
Then the sound of him breathing starts to echo in my ears.
me - "I can hear you breathing and it sounds loud."
K - "That's good, it means I'm alive."
me - "Hmm."
I'll deal I guess.
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