I wish I could be Hazel. She gets to sleep whenever she’s sleepy. She has someone whose full-time, 24-hour-per-day job is to keep her content. She knows she is loved and delighted in; people clap and get excited when she waves. People listen to her when she tries to communicate. She can explore and play as she wishes. That must be nice.
I wish I could be Moses. He gets to scream and yell when he wants or needs to, without worrying about scarring me for life or what those watching on might think; he has no inhibitions. He’s free just to be. He has someone whose job it is to make sure all of his needs are met, and who tries hard to make sure he’s happy. He has people thinking about his present and future, and working towards opportunities for him to grow mentally, emotionally, spiritually. He doesn’t have to think of anyone but himself. He always has someone nearby to help him learn what to do when he feels angry/sad/frustrated/jealous, and to offer compassion and hugs when he gets things wrong. That must be nice.
I wish I could be Alan. He gets to leave the house without thinking about nappies and snacks and water (he gets to leave the house). He can leave and return whenever suits him best. He gets to work with adults, people who can be expected to be rational and to talk kindly to him. His work is acknowledged; he gets paid for it, and people who know that it’s true tell him he’s doing a great job. If he has a bad day at work he gets to leave the office for the night, or the weekend, and have a break from it, at least physically. He can take a sick day if he feels sick. He is granted four weeks of time away from work each year. He comes home to a meal, and two children who think his return is the most exciting thing that’s happened all day. That must be nice.