By Trotter Cobb
How could spaghetti make me the happiest dad in the world?
All it took was a few FaceTime minutes with my son.
My son and namesake, Trotter, who my wife Anne and I call Trot, is a DYRK1A guy.
He had called me while in the midst of an amazing program called Crossing Points, held at the University of Alabama.
The program is for young adults, such as Trot, who have special needs and who are in their late teens and early 20s. The purpose is to give them the skills and guidance they need to function as semi-independent adults.
Trot didn’t know how to FaceTime before the program. But he learned quickly. And gosh did he ever FaceTime me while there!
I would light up every time I saw his incoming call, knowing that I was about to see his sweet face on my screen.
"I cooked spaghetti for dinner last night and it was so yummmmmy!” he exclaimed exuberantly one day. I thought he was going to jump through the phone.
"I want to cook dinner for Mom when I get home,” he told me.
"She'll love it," I said.
"Will you help me?” he asked.
"You bet I will. I will be your assistant,” I promised.
"Thanks Dad!” he responded, as excited as can be.
Trot cooking spaghetti, his favorite food, is something I never could have imagined
before Crossing Points.
Nor could I have imagined him going away for most of the summer; thriving, and meeting new friends who, almost immediately, lifted him to a new level of happiness, confidence and maturity. Friends such as his suite-mate Bobby.
Bobby’s not his real name, I’ve changed it here to protect his privacy. But this kid, also special needs, was a big boost for Trot and our family. He was a little older than Trot and very protective of my son. He would tell us how well Trot was doing.
My wife Anne became friends with Bobby’s grandmother and they chatted all the time.
They were talking on the phone one day when she told Anne what Bobby had said to
her about Trot: "He's my best friend, and he's cool.”
The next time Anne and I talked to Trot we told him what his suite-mate had said about him. "He's my best friend,” answered Trot.
One of the things we’ve tried to do as DYRK1A parents is teach Trot to be more specific,
so I followed that up with, “Now, who is your best friend?” — knowing it was Bobby.
“Hold on...wait, wait,” Trot said, turning to his suite-mate to ask him, “What’s your name?”
Such moments remind me that within my son’s adult body still resides a mind that is not fully developed. This is why helping to navigate a new path for our son is so challenging — and rewarding.
Never did we imagine that he could go off by himself for nearly two months and function so well.
Other FaceTime exchanges with Trot have been as uplifting as our spaghetti chat.
“Guess what, Dad! We went swimming. Everybody clapped for me. I climbed the ladder to the top of the water slide.”
Then there was our chat with Trot about him having gone bowling.
He’s always loved bowling and has won a local Special Olympics gold medal. So bowling is something Anne and I have encouraged.
His bowling report from the Crossing Points program, of course, was exactly what he tells us every time he goes bowling. He always gets two spares and a strike or two strikes and a spare. It never changes.
But so what? Each time he sounds as excited as if he were telling us for the first time. Anne and I respond with excitement as if we were hearing it for the first time.
Whenever he FaceTimed us from the Crossing Points program, I asked myself these questions after our chats concluded: Does he miss us? Does he want to come home? Would he actually be happier in a group setting?
The answers weren’t clear. What was clear, however, was that the two months he was away eased my concern about whether Trot will be able to manage once Anne and I, both in our late 60s, have passed away.
That’s in the future, though. Hopefully a long way off.
For now, I’m looking forward to cooking spaghetti.
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