Mummy the Shield

What was I thinking taking my over sensitive self and more to the point my son with sensory processing to to a 10pm HiLo bram session???? To my defence I didn't know all night shopping was the new in thing in Maraval and that a million people would jump into their cars and swarm like killer bees into the supermarket in the middle of the night, or that there would be live music and 45 minute check out queues :-S

The guilt grew as my son got paler and paler and buzzing in my head was Aliya Drakes' article about how debilitating supermarket trips can be to those with sensory processing difficulties, but with my intrepid soul I pushed on, desperate to get one of those huge salmons before they invariably sold out, leaving me Christmas dinnerless, and determined to not have to come back on Christmas eve which could be even worse.  In the interests of efficiency we adopted the tactic of my son lining up with the trolley while I grabbed the last few items, but each time I returned I could see him slowly imploding, and I was scared for the woman in front's achilles as my boy's grip on the trolley got more and more rigid and forceful.  

Funnily enough though, once I finally rejoined him, giving up on any further crucial last minute items, he held onto me quite firmly but calmed right down and was able to chat away quite animatedly.  At that moment I realised something so profound and humbling. I am his shield.  Once I am with him and he turns his hyperfocus onto me, all the dangers of the world melt away into insignificance.

He helped put the shopping on the conveyer, he helped unload it at home and was calm and collected for the rest of the evening.  I suspect he'll be tired this morning, and I won't wake him too early, but he was essentially fine, getting through a certain hell like a true trooper.