I walked in with a pile of clean laundry and then spotted it—Lego scattered all over the floor, mostly in pieces, but some bits managed to stay together. My heart sank!
I could picture the upset in his eyes, the lump in his throat as he fought back tears, only to give in and let them flow. In that moment, I wanted to cry for him as the scene played out in my mind.
When I heard the front door open, I headed downstairs. “Ewan, we need to chat,” I said. He looked worried, like I had caught him doing something wrong. “Something’s happened. I didn’t hear Rhys in your room, and he pulled all your Lego onto the floor. I’m so sorry! I’ll help you rebuild it.”
Ewan looked at me, paused for a few seconds, and then simply said, “It’s okay,” before turning and walking up the stairs. I followed him, and we entered the chaos.
We both plopped down on the floor and started sorting the pieces into piles. “This is Hagrid’s butt,” he said, and I added it to one pile, then grabbed a few pieces for Hogwarts castle and created another pile. We spent two hours scrolling through Lego instructions on my phone and rebuilding each model piece by piece. Not once did Ewan complain or get upset with his brother.
Ewan’s brother is autistic. He didn’t destroy the Lego out of malice; I truly believe he just wanted a clear surface for his marbles while he played, and the Lego was in the way.
Ewan understood that. A wrecked display was heartbreaking, but he had the maturity to accept it. My son’s autism has meant his siblings have had to navigate life differently. It hasn’t been easy; they’ve missed out on a lot and had to grow up faster than others.
I’m so proud of Ewan. It’s tough when someone messes with your personal things, especially after you’ve spent hours building them. His response is the true meaning of acceptance, and I want to make sure he gets rewarded for his kindness.
And we really need to remember to close his bedroom door!
