Brantley, my nine-year-old with profound Autism, is one sharp cookie.
People are often taken aback by the idea that someone non-verbal could be so cunning. Brantley, though, uses this to his advantage to play anyone like a fiddle when the opportunity arises.
At every chance, he puts on a stellar performance, orchestrating a symphony of antics that make you question who's really in charge.
His act is so convincing that even I fall for it sometimes.
For the past nine years, I've been Brantley's wardrobe assistant. While we've diligently practiced getting him dressed—putting on shirts and pulling up his shorts and underwear—one thing has remained consistent: he always needs help threading his legs through those darn pant holes.
It's a routine we've rehearsed endlessly because, despite my best efforts, Brantley turns into a nudist during every bathroom trip, tossing his undies and pants aside. And each time concludes the same way: me helping my mischievous nine-year-old wiggle back into his bottoms.
But today, his caregiver caught him lounging on his bed, sporting underwear over his shorts.
His charade is up.
It wasn't just a fashion statement; it was Brantley's way of showing he can dress himself. It was a comical reminder of why we always push him to try. That cheeky, blonde-haired boy had me believing he struggled with putting on those bottoms.
I've been fiddled, again.
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