Read Online As Tears Go By by Lydia Michaels - Free Book Online Page B

process.
    “There
you go. Now take off the other one.”
    He
twisted and grabbed the pillow, jamming it into his belly as he rolled,
pressing his face into the couch to scream. Becca went to turn off the water.
It was going to be one of those nights.
    Hunter’s
screams carried through the house, regardless of how he shoved his face into
the leather of the couch. She stood back as he carried on. His hands curled and
twisted. He grabbed at his clothing and pulled. When his hand punched the side
of his head she intervened.
    “Hunter,
do not hit.”
    Face
flushing with frustration, he growled and screeched into the furniture. Becca
walked away, ignoring his outburst. She only intervened when Hunter was hurting
himself, others, or damaging property, but it wasn’t always easy to pretend
indifference to his tantrums.
    Tough
love was an unfortunate part of maternal solicitude. Every struggle beat at her
heart.
    She
laid out his pajamas and turned down his bed. Five minutes later Hunter was
motionless on the couch, breathing hard, but quietly staring out the window,
the side of his face now pressed into the cushion.
    “Are
you ready now?”
    He
didn’t show any signs of hearing her, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d missed
what she’d said. Sometimes Hunter had so much going on in his mind, words were
a nuisance.
    “If you
want to listen to another song before bed, you need to come into the bathroom
now.”
    He
grimaced and stomped to the bathroom. Becca followed and turned on the faucet,
filling the tub the rest of the way. “Take off your clothes.”
    He
peeled off his clothes, yanking hard as the collar twisted around his neck.
Becca waited until he was undressed. Patience was a virtue, rewarded by his
developing independence. “Get into the tub.”
    Grudgingly,
he took her arm and stepped into the water, but refused to sit.
    “We
need to finish in ten minutes or no more music tonight.”
    He
screamed and Becca’s hands rushed to her ears as she winced. When the
blood-curdling outburst abruptly stopped she calmly asked, “Why are you
screaming?”
    He
stomped his foot, kicking water onto the tile. Breathing hard through his teeth
he panted, each breath accompanied by a bleating cry. The intoxicating hum was
all part of his progression toward something he found insufferable.
    The
water wasn’t too hot or too cold. It was simply a process for him to lower his
body into the tub. “It’s slimy.”
    “I
know, but you’re dirty and need to get washed.” She patiently waited for him to
give up fighting the inevitable.
    “Five
minutes,” she announced looking at her watch.
    He
dropped to the water. Go time. Becca grabbed the loofa and squirted a
hefty amount of body wash on it. Boys were messy and her son was no different.
    She
scrubbed his back, arms, neck, chest, and feet. Picking up his hand, which he
now held stiffly, she closed his fingers over the spongy ball. “Do your belly,
Hunter.”
    Hand
over hand, she guided his motions as he washed the
rest of his body. He was getting older, and it was imperative he master the
task of bathing himself independently. It would be so much easier to simply do
everything for him, but that wouldn’t help Hunter’s development. Independence
was vital.
    Scooping
up the plastic pitcher, she rinsed his shoulders. He screeched when she wet his
hair. “Eyes! Eyes! Eyes!”
    She
quickly placed the hand towel she always kept at the ready into his twitching
fingers. “Almost done.”
    He
wiped his brow and calmed.
    “Find
the shampoo.”
    Hunter
handed her the bottle. He had some tactile issues with slippery substances,
which was one of the reasons bath time was always so challenging.
    “Open
your hand.”
    Begrudgingly,
he held out his palm. She squirted shampoo in the center and he flung it off
and squealed.   She gripped his wrist and
added some more. “Put it in your hair, Hunter. We’re almost finished. I wonder
what song you’re going to listen to when you’re