Dear Readers,

I had some time over Thanksgiving to start the next chapter. Somehow it just kept coming! I thought you all deserved it ASAP since you've held on for so long between other chapters. Thank you for being such amazing fans!

Lots of love! And only 25 days 'til Christmas! (But more importantly, only 69 more days until the movie opens!)

-Kelly :)

How It Happened

Chapter 29

Grace

Coming home to this… It makes me wonder if we were really one hundred percent honest with Dr. Evans. We told her there were a few bumps at home, but they may be a bit larger than we let on. I snap out of my silence and tune in to the scuffle in the family room. "I'll deal with Elliot, Carry."

"No, I'll take care of Elliot." Oh boy. My husband is on the edge. "You take Christian to my office. He needs a time out for throwing and hitting, and I need to talk with Elliot to find out what started all this." He starts walking our older son toward the staircase. "I think in this situation, he'd relate to you better anyway, and I'm not sure I'd keep my cool with him right now. So I'll get Elliot…"

"…And I'll get Christian."

"And I'll get myself a bourbon!" I hear my mother's comment as she practically falls onto the sofa. It breaks the tension. Both Carrick and I have to laugh. It's probably the best thing that could have happened right now. I was feeling like melting down. Now I just feel like a mom.

Carrick leads a crying Elliot upstairs, and I move over to Christian who is shaking his head and stomping in place. I think he's pointing at Elliot but it could just be at the pile of toys in the middle of the room. His arms are almost flapping so it's hard to tell. "Christian, Darling… Come with Mommy please." I don't think he even realizes I'm there but as soon as I take his hand he pulls away and looks up at me with those wide, gray eyes. They never cease to stop me in my tracks. He's such a beautiful child. But I've noticed the gray can vary from light and innocent, to dark and foreboding. Right now they're a kind of mix; somewhere farther from 'I'm angry,' and more toward 'I'm scared.' We know this color mostly as 'Please don't touch me!'

I think back to what Dr. Evans said about this actually being a touch phobia, her comments about giving him time to trust us, to know we are here for him and will do what we say… I try to find the right way to deal with him, but still remain in the parental role and get him to obey. "Darling…" I try keeping my voice steady and not overly stern. "Right now. Come with Mommy. We need to go to Daddy's office. You and me. Come on, now." I decide to let him touch me, so I hold out my hand for him to take. He looks down at my extended fingers, and cautiously takes only one. This is new. He's held my hand before so I'm taken back that he won't take it now.

I walk with him silently to Carrick's office. As we enter, I notice Christian is looking around with a worried expression. He's been in here before, so I'm sure he knows what's coming. I feel him pull back when I head for the small chair on the far side of the room. I find this curious as I'm not even holding his hand, he's holding onto me. I look down and he's looking up to me for something… I take the good doctor's advice and tell him exactly what's going on. "Yes. We're here for a time out. You were wrong to hit Elliot and throw the toy. You will sit here and you may not go back until Mommy says." Not very explicit. Try again, Grace. "It will be four minutes. You are four years old, you will sit for four minutes."

He tries the whimpers and head shaking 'no no no', but I just pull out the chair and gesture for him to sit. His big eyes start to redden and water up. Damn it. I need to stand my ground. Just remember to do it gently, carefully, explicitly, directly… what else did she say to do? "Sit down in the chair, Christian. This is not a choice." He continues to look up at me, but isn't moving at all. "You will either sit in the chair by yourself, or I will have to pick you up and place you in it. Which would you prefer?"

He starts with the head shaking again, but when I tell him that now I have to pick him up, he quickly sits himself in the chair. He is looking everywhere but at me and I notice him starting to pull on his clothes. We're pretty sure that means something akin to 'I'm nervous and my blanket would be very helpful right now, thank you very much.'

"No. I cannot give you your blanket right now." He looks up at me almost ready to cry and the pulling gets more anxious. "It's up in your room, and we are down here in Daddy's office. When you go up to bed, it will be waiting for you. But it's not here right now." His breathing gets faster and the pulling is joined by rocking… OK. I have to fix this. Trust. He needs to be able to trust us… That we are here for him, we love and care for him, and he can believe what we say…

"You stay right there. I will get your blanket down here for you. But then, you will stay in that time out for the four minutes." I open the door and call "Mom! Would you please go upstairs for me, and get Christian's blanket? It should be laying on the end of his bed."

She calls back from the family room, "Carrick told me earlier, that Christian has to leave that upstairs until bedtime, Grace." Really? Does she think I don't know this?

"I wouldn't be asking, if I didn't think it was necessary." She and Carrick are close but she's going to pull this right now? "Mom, please?" I look over to my son and make sure he hears me saying all this. "Christian needs his blanket right now. I need you to go get it for him. Carrick will understand."

"Alright, but if your husband gets upset with me, I'm telling him…." I don't hear where the rest of that sentence goes; she is already halfway up the stairs. I go back over to my son and kneel down next to him. I'm careful to touch only his head. He stiffens, but doesn't look away from me.

"You need your blanket to help you calm down and feel safe. Daddy and I want you to feel safe, so we will let you have it this time. But it was naughty when you hit Elliot and threw the toy. Do we allow Elliot to hit you?" Christian pulls on his sleeve, but I get a slow head shake. "Do we allow Elliot to throw toys?" He wraps his arms closely to him and I hear his breathing get shorter and quicker. "Christian?"

Just then my mother comes in with the blanket. Christian sees the blanket and reaches out both hands, opening and closing his fingers in desperation to hold it. She reaches it out to him, but I take it first. "Thanks Mom."

"Grace, if Carrick has a reason for that to stay upstairs…"

"I said thanks Mom. Let me do this. Please?" I look at her and she can tell by my expression that the best thing she can do right now is leave me with my son. She shrugs and heads back out of the room. "Now, Christian… I asked you a question and I expect and answer. Do we allow Elliot to hit you?" I get a slow silent head shake. "Then it's not OK for you to hit him. Ever. No more. Do you understand me?" He slowly nods so I think it's time to let him have the blanket. "I told you I would get your blanket down here for you. Here it is." I gently hand him the blanket. He grabs it tightly to his chest and hides his face. "Look at me please." He slowly looks up. "I told you four minutes in time out for hitting and throwing toys."

I know. It's already been a few minutes, but he won't understand if I go into some mathematical process. I look at my wrist, and watch the second hand moving slowly around. "We will start them right…. now." Christian is hugging the blanket and definitely more calm. When I glance up at him though, I see some confusion on his face. I'm not sure what's causing it right now, but Dr. Evans said tell him what's going on, so I'm taking her at her word. "I'm watching the time Christian, so I will know when you can get up. Want to watch with me?" I hold out my arm and explain about the second hand. When three minutes have gone by, I tell him only one more to go. I hear his relieved sigh and see a little contentment on his face.

When the four minutes are done, I let him stand up and we move the chair back to its place out of the way. "Now, you already know, we do not allow hitting or throwing toys in the house. You will have to say you're sorry to your brother." I flash back to the other times he's hit Elliot, and even the incident with the pizzas around Halloween. I made him apologize every time, which ended up just being a touch on Elliot's arm. I realize I never told him how to apologize, but we allowed the arm touch to count so, I'm going with it again. "When we get to Elliot's room, you will have to look at him, and show him you are sorry you hurt him. Do you want to tell him? Or would you like to touch his arm, like before?" I know which one he won't pick. Man, wouldn't everything be so much easier if he'd just talk to us? I close my eyes and say a quick prayer; "Please Lord, let us hear his voice sometime soon."

Carrick

I'm marching my older son up the stairs to his room. He's started crying, and I'm sure he's getting more and more nervous. My office means time out. Being sent upstairs is a bit more intense. Me taking him upstairs myself, is usually a spanking. I suppose I should set his mind at ease. "El, we are going upstairs because you and Christian need to be away from each other right now. OK? And I need you to tell me what was happening when we got home." I get a quiet and hiccuped 'OK' which tells me he's trying to calm the crying down and get himself under control.

When we get into his room, I let him climb up on is bed. He grabs for his pillow and hugs it to his chest. This is new. He never had any kind of security item before; no stuffed animals or blanket like Christian does. I wonder if he got the idea from his younger brother, or if he's using the pillow more as a shield from me. "Right now, we're just going to talk about what happened in the family room…"

"Am I in trouble, Daddy?" His big blue eyes are red and watered, and there are tear tracks down his cheeks. Poor kid. From what I heard, he's more the victim here.

"I don't know yet. I need to find out…"

"Is Christian in trouble, too?" Christian? Is he worried about the whole 'fairness' issue right now? Or is he actually concerned about his brother? I mean his little brother hauled off and hit him. I guess I'd expect him to be pointing fingers and trying to lay the blame on Christian, who's the easiest mark, since he actually did it.

"Well, he hit you and threw something across the room. We don't allow you boys to behave that way…"

"You told Mommy he needed a time out. Is he gonna' sit in the time out chair in your office?"

"Probably. Listen, El…"

"Are you mad?"

"Yes, a little. But right now…"

"Is Mommy mad?"

"Elliot! Stop." His eyes go big and start to tear up again. Breathe Carrick. Just take a deep breath and be the dad here. "I need to know what was going on. We heard you tell Christian something was yours, then he hit you, then Grandma tried to give him something else and he threw it across the room." He's nodding that I have that portion of the story correct. "What was going on before that?"

"Just the same thing. Christian was mad. He's been mad since you left." This is a surprise.

"Tell me about that, El." My older son proceeds to tell me that Christian was pounding on the door almost as soon as we walked out through it. Apparently, my mother-in-law tried to distract him with a snack which worked for a little while.

"But then he just kinda' looked around and ran over to the door again," Elliot shrugs like this makes no sense to him at all. "He wasn't pounding though. Just sittin' on the floor. I just left him there and went to play in the family room." This all makes me think back to Dr. Evan's comment about Christian feeling abandoned; not trusting we will return. But it doesn't make sense. He's stayed with my mother-in-law before. Then again, she did basically tell us it may be fine one day and not another. More of that flipping back and forth thing…

I get a little more from my older son; that everything was OK until Christian wanted to play with him. "Well, first, it was alright. I mean I played with some Legos, and he was playing with the cars. But then I needed a car for my building, and so I took one. I didn't know he was using it. Well, OK, I knew he was using it but it wasn't in his hand or anything. So I was using it for a while."

"Is that when he tried to take it?"

"What?" He looks at me like I'm daft. "No. We just played." I feel myself let out a deep sigh and I'm closing my eyes so my son won't see me rolling them. Getting a straight story out of a six year old is as 'straight' as a detour around I-75 through downtown Detroit; significantly zigzagged and potentially dangerous. "He was still mad about something, though. I don't know what. 'Cause I had the car and he was OK, but all of a sudden he just tried to take it back. There were like, a bajillion other cars and tried to take that one."

"You just said he had been using it. Did you ask if he was done with it? Maybe he wasn't." Elliot's head hangs slightly and I get a quiet 'no' in response. "So is that when Mommy and I came home?"

"No." What? Oh come on kiddo, just get me to the part I need to know about. "That was when we are playin' airplanes." I try to get a little more information on that part of this convoluted story, but Elliot can't seem to just jump ahead. I suppose it's better this way though. I did find out that apparently no matter what Elliot wanted to use, Christian wanted to take it. Erica tried to stop the issue by reading some stories. Which worked until the stories were done. But then the two went back to playing and Christian went back to taking everything Elliot wanted to use.

"Can you tell me about the airplanes, El? I need to know about the hitting and the throwing." Right now, I'm making a mental list of all the things we need to address; the hitting is number one, followed directly by sharing. The throwing is on there too, I just need to know if it was in anger, frustration or my son just being a little shit.

"Grandma said we had to put the cars away 'cause they were causin' too much trouble. I didn't want to but Grandma said, so I was putting them in the tub and Christian kept takin' them back out. He was getting mad and did that long growly noise. Grandma had to take the tub from him and he got really mad and hit me in the arm."

"Wait, I thought you said they were airplanes."

"That was the other time."

"How many times did he hit you, El?"

"Um…" He has to stop and think. This isn't good. "The airplanes was the fourth one." Four different occasions? We were only gone for an hour and a half. "But it's OK…"

"No, Elliot. It's not OK." I think this is what Dr. Evans was saying about Elliot not wanting to upset me. "El, you don't ever have to pretend everything is OK with Christian, if it's not. Do you know what I'm saying?" I get a silent nod, but I think he's just agreeing so I don't get upset. This is becoming a vicious cycle. "I mean it, Elliot. Look at me." He's put his head down and tightened his grip in the pillow. "Look at me, son." He lifts his head and I see the eyes watering up again. "We all love Christian. He is a permanent part of our family now. You two have to live together for a long time, so it's important you can get along. But that does not mean you have to like everything he does. If something upsets you, you can let us know. We want you to tell us. We've said, we can't fix it if we don't know."

He sits silently and I can tell he wants to say something but either can't find the words, or is still nervous to actually tell me. He mumbles something and I have to ask him to repeat it so I can understand him. Then he lets out a loud exasperated "I don't like when he hits me, Dad."

"I know. You've told me that. And we don't allow hitting."

"Then how come he gets to keep doing it!?" Whoa. I see an angry side of Elliot that is a rarity. In any other instance I'd come down on him for raising his voice like that. But I asked.

"He doesn't get to keep doing it. And calm that tone down please. We are talking, not yelling." He apologizes and I notice the pillow grip tighten. "Mommy is disciplining him right now for the hitting. We are working with him to stop that behavior. We will not allow it. But we do need to remember that your brother doesn't have any words to express himself." As I go on and on about how we need to work with Christian, give him time… I realize what Dr. Evans meant by Elliot getting some help too. I'm sure he's already tuned me out and isn't paying one iota of attention to anything I'm saying right now.

I'm interrupted by a quiet knock on Elliot's door. "Carry? Is everything alright? Christian would like to come in and apologize to Elliot." Grace's soft, gentle voice makes El start to wipe his eyes. I'm sure he doesn't want his mother to see him like this.

"Actually, Gracie, no. This is not a good time. In a few minutes. We'll be down in a little while." I'm sure she's surprised at this, but she tells me she'll have our younger son downstairs waiting. I decide that while I need a little more time with Elliot, what he needs, I may not be able to give him. So I just sit with him silently and wait for him to feel like going back downstairs.

Grace

Hmmm. Elliot's not ready for Christian's apology? I am more than curious to find out what happened up there. I lead my son to the living room; the no toys, no fun room, to wait until this situation is resolved. At least that's what I think until Christian lets go of my hand and runs to the piano.

The lid is down and he's looking back and forth from it to me, pleading me to open it for him. I never told him he can't touch it if it's closed. I guess he decided that's what 'closed' means here. If he needs some piano music, then I'm all for him playing some. Not that he's actually playing anything yet, but he's always gentle with it, so I know he won't just bang on the keyboard like his older brother does.

"Do you want to play on the piano, or do you want Mommy to play?" He's almost ignoring me as he scoots onto the bench. His long fingers start touching and gently pressing keys randomly. I just stand back and let him have his moment.

I jump slightly when I feel my mother's hand on my shoulder. "I think he's going to be one heck of a pianist, Grace. He's got a natural ear for it." I look at her and smile. I'd like to see that happen. It seems to make him happy. "I mean, listen to him now. I know it's just random, but he's thinking while he does it. Watch him." She gestures to Christian. I focus on the actual sound coming from the piano… It's really not bad. "So it's not anything recognizable yet. Who cares? It's definitely more melodic than you'd expect from a four year old. You should start him in lessons, and soon." My mother's two cents, followed by a swig of bourbon. I think about Dr. Evans' caution about lessons and formality too soon; just letting him have this time to explore it and find comfort in it first. I agree with the good doctor.

"In due time, Mother." I watch her take another drink. "Was is really that bad today, Mom? I mean, so bad you needed a drink?" It's barely four o'clock in the afternoon. "Was watching our children that horrific?" Was Christian that awful?

"Oh, don't worry about me. I've watched them before and I'll do it again. But I'm not going to lie, it's significantly different watching Elliot and Christian, rather than just Elliot, like I've done in the past. And I have to admit, there were a few moments today, Grace." She takes another swig and raises her eyebrows at me. I guess I must have a horrified expression on my face because she quickly puts her arm around my shoulder and gives me a kiss on my temple. "Don't think too much about it, Darling. I'm getting used to Christian's personality and preferences…. And really, I haven't had to deal with two little boys having issues together, for a long time! And I had you as a buffer between them. These two…" She gestures again toward Christian. "You're two are closer in age, which is a good thing, but it can make for a challenging day for someone my age." She turns to head back to the family room. She stops and turns to me, sheepishly adding "And I didn't help things when I forgot about the touch issue and tried to pick him up to move him to another room. That didn't go too well. I'm sorry. I just forgot. I just wanted to separate them for a little while. That's what I always did with your brothers." She continues back into the family room and I can hear something on the television she must be watching in there.

Then I hear my husband come down the stairs with our older son. Elliot looks like he's been crying and I feel that maternal pull to go comfort my little boy. As I hug him, I feel his tight grip on me; tighter than I think I've felt from him in a while. Today was hard, for all of us.

Carrick lets him go play in the family room. "I thought we were going to deal with today's situation," I ask him.

"We will. It sounds like Christian needs some time on the piano, and I think Elliot could use some play time to himself too. We can talk about all of it after dinner." I can tell he wants to say something more but either doesn't like what he needs to say or is embarrassed to do so. I take his hand and look him in the eyes. "Carry? What is it?" I whisper.

"Let me take your mother home and then you and I can talk about it later." As he turns to head out to the hall, he sees Christian's blanket tossed on the floor by the piano. He looks up at me with a questioned expression.

"He needed it. I gave it to him."

Carrick chuckles and nods as he heads out of the room.