Barbara sighed and called the children downstairs. “Breakfast is ready!”
After finishing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, she began working on the quilting she had planned to do at the frolic. Looking outside, she saw the snowflakes were large and still falling fast.
“Mam? Can we go outside to play?” Michael was restless.
“Nee, son, you know it’s storming out. You go upstairs and play with your toys. I’m going to have your sister and brother play separately too.”
Michael knew better than to protest. Instead, he pouted as he stomped upstairs.
Barbara knew that Ben had returned to the barn so he could get ahead on the work he saved for days like today. Sighing, she put her quilting away and closed the door so she could start dinner and the baking.
After everyone had eaten a hot beef potpie with mashed potatoes and Brussels sprouts, Barbara got started on the shoofly pies and, as they baked, she chopped the vegetables for the salad she was planning to take. She raised her head quickly as Annie screamed. “Mam!” Dropping the knife, she hurried as quickly as her heaviness would allow to the hallway. She saw Annie standing at the now-opened door of her quilting room. “What?”
“He came in here and he...he ruined your...quilt.” Annie was so upset she began to cry.
Barbara entered the room, where she saw Michael wielding her large scissors. In his other hand, he held the stitched-together swatch she had worked on before dinner. All around his feet were tiny scraps that he had snipped off from the swatch. “Michael! Put those down and go to your room right now! Annie, put your coat and boots on. Go to the barn and tell your dat what he just did.”
Michael skedaddled. He knew he had done wrong. In his room, he sat behind a closed door, puzzling out why he had ruined his mother’s work. He had been bored, so he went looking for something fun to do. Entering the quilting room, he’d seen the scissors laying on the table, along with the swatch his mam had worked on. Next thing he knew, his mam was looking at him and his sister was crying in the doorway.
Ben entered the room, where he sat next to Michael. “Son, what did you do?”
“I cut up the quilting Mam did today. I was bored.”
“Why did you decide to cut up her work?” Ben was tired. Tired of the fights with Barbara and tired of trying to keep up with his hyperactive and impulsive son. Yet, he found it easier to talk to him than he did to Barbara, probably because he was more innocent.
“Dunno. It looked like fun?”
“Nee, son, I don’t know why you did it...” Ben fell silent as he tried to remember the techniques the therapist had taught them about helping Michael to understand why he did the things he did. “So, did it feel fun to do what you did?”
“Ja.”
“Did it feel like you were doing something right?”
“Uhh...”
“Michael...please answer.”
“Nee. But I couldn’t...”
The door crashed open and Barbara stood there, her hands on her wide hips. “Michael!”
“Barbara! Wait! We’re talking about it, just as his doctor told us. Go! Now!”
Barbara wasn’t used to this forcefulness from her husband. Gasping, she backed off and shut the door.
“You couldn’t...what, son?”
Michael had to think to remember the direction of his conversation with his dat. “I couldn’t stop cutting. It just felt gut; like I was getting something out of me.”
Ben didn’t expect this and didn’t know how to respond. “Something? Like what?” His confusion came through in his voice.
Michael swung his legs back and forth, then he stood and began to pace around the room. “Like...like I was telling Mam something—something big and important.”
Ben felt like he was walking through a swamp full of weeds. “And what were you telling her?”
Michael sighed. It was so hard to put into words! “Uhh...well, I feel like Mam isn’t paying attention to me, Jeb or Annie as much as she used to.” Still pacing, Michael relieved the compelling need in his body to be moving around. Jumping and hopscotching, he moved around as he told Ben what he was feeling.
“She used to bother me about doing my homework all the time. She used to watch me almost every second while she was ironing or cooking. Now, she’s not. And I feel kind of ignored.” Michael continued to move around the room, narrowly avoiding disaster with the edges of the table.
“Michael, you can’t play with your mother’s things. They are dangerous and they don’t belong to you. You did wrong to destroy your mother’s work, no matter what you’re feeling. We’re going to take you to the therapist and talk about what you told me and what you did. From this minute on, you are not to go into your mother’s quilting room. Understand?”
Michael stopped bouncing around the room. With a downcast face, he nodded. “Ja.”
Ben, seeing the hurt in his son’s face, kneeled in front of him. Instinctively, he cupped Michael’s cheeks in his hands. “Son, I understand what you’re saying. I’m going to talk to Annie and maybe Jeb to see what they say. Maybe they feel the same thing. Your mam and I, we’re still learning how to help you with this hyperactivity issue.” Sighing heavily, he came to a decision. “And that’s why I am telling you that for the next three days, you can’t play on the tree swing or in the treehouse. After school, you’ll come straight into the house, where you’ll do your homework right away. I’m going to tell your mam this. And we will both try to spend more time with you—and your brother and sister.”
Michael wasn’t sure what to feel. He was torn between disappointment and anger that he couldn’t play outside and relief that his dat understood him. “But Dat! I need to move around! I can’t help it!”
“Son, you should have taken a few seconds to remember that before you destroyed the work your mam did. Come.” Taking Michael’s reluctant hand, he led him into the main part of the house.
“Wife, where are you?”
Guiltily, Barbara started. “Here, husband. She hurried in, huffing, from the hallway. She had been listening through the door, and when she heard Ben and Michael walking toward the closed door upstairs, she had scurried down into another room. “Did you punish him gut for cutting up my work?”
“He is grounded. For the next... I’ll let him tell you himself. Annie, Jeb, come. Sit with us.” Gripping Michael’s hand a little harder, he gave it a shake. “Tell Mam what your punishment is.”
“For the next three days, I can’t play outside in the treehouse or on the swing. I have to come straight inside after school and do my work. I have to stay inside.”
“And what else did you tell me? About why you cut her work?”
Restlessly, Michael’s feet shifted back and forth. He had a child’s instinctive understanding that what he was being directed to say could get him in big trouble. “I feel like we don’t have as much of your attention as we did. You used to bother me a lot about my homework and what I was doing. I feel like you’re ignoring me when I need you.”
Barbara gasped, feeling the words like a punch to her gut.
“Sit, wife. Annie, Jeb, do you feel the same thing?”
“Dat, what’s ‘ignored’? Jeb didn’t know what the word meant.
“It’s when someone isn’t paying attention to you.” Ben was watching Barbara and he was stunned to see a dark flush creeping up over her round face. “Annie, do you feel the same way?”
Annie, with a worried look on her face, glanced back and forth between her dat and mam. She loved them both, but she had to agree with Michael. “Ja, I feel like Mam has been kind of distracted in a way. Like she has had something else on her mind and she hasn’t been giving us as much of her attention as she used to. It started weeks ago.” Her chin quivered as she fought tears.
“Jeb? Do you feel like your mother’s attention has been on something else?”
Jeb was struggling to keep up. But he understood “mam” and “attention.” Nodding, he stuck his finger in his mouth. He pulled it out slowly when Ben shook his head. “Ja, I do. It takes her longer to notice when we get hurt or start to argue. And she seems...mad, but we aren’t in trouble.”
“Ach, okay. Denki, for being honest. All you kinder, go upstairs and play quietly in your rooms. Mam and I need to talk.”
The children went upstairs quietly, knowing that their dat was mad at their mam. Even Michael was quiet, not moving around as much.
Back downstairs, Ben regarded Barbara with a silent, speaking stare.
“What? Why are you just staring at me? Talk, if you have something on your mind!” Barbara was immediately defensive.
“Wife, Michael was wrong to do what he did. But he told me something very interesting, which you just heard. You’re distracted and not giving the kinder as much attention as you used to do. They are feeling it, even—actually, especially—Michael. I think he’s struggling with his diagnosis just as much as we are. I don’t know if he’s said anything to you about wanting your attention or not. But he cut up that fabric because of what he's feeling. He told me that as he was cutting it, he felt like he was getting something out of himself. Like he was telling you something. Barbara, when your child feels like he can’t tell you with words what he is feeling, there is something wrong.”
“But Ben, I spend as much time as I can with them! I—”
Ben raised his hand. “I’m not done. We are trying to figure all of this out, with his disability or whatever it is. How do we discipline him? How do we approach him? How do we get him to do something he needs to do, rather than bouncing all over the room? I picked a punishment that I knew would be painful for him. Not being outside and burning off all that energy may make an impression on him. By the time they come home from school, you are most concerned with making supper. So he is going to be downstairs with you and doing his work while Annie and Jeb are playing outdoors. Wait. I’m not done yet.”
Barbara sighed heavily and barely avoided rolling her eyes at Ben.
“Why have you been so distracted? You aren’t plotting something else, are you?”
Barbara’s jaw dropped. “Nee! I learned my lesson! I’m just trying to adjust to Emma having a weight loss goal, because she’s developed an attitude that I really dislike.”
Ben looked at Barbara. I love her, but I know from things she’s done in the past that she can be tricky. Do I accept this? “Barbara, are you telling me the truth? She has wanted to lose weight for many years. I remember from past times that when she’s done so, you’ve gotten upset at her. Why?”
Feeling pinned against the wall, Barbara lashed out. “Ben, why are you doing this? Fine! She’s losing weight! Maybe I don’t like her choice of boyfriend!”
Ben had a flash of insight. “Or maybe something about her effort to get healthy is scaring you. Pay more attention to your kinder, wife, and less to your sister’s health efforts. I’ll be watching you.” Imitating an old movie that Ben had seen during his running-around time, he pointed two of his fingers at his eyes, then at her face. Standing, he left so he could go to the barn and cool off.
Barbara remained in the kitchen completely stunned by Ben’s words. He knows I’m scared! But how? And I need to make sure he doesn’t know just why I’m scared. Closing her eyes, Barbara’s mind began to play out a scenario that frightened her to her core.
She entered the house where a frolic was taking place. She was chatting with several of her friends, feeling comfortable because she was the center of their attention. Slowly, she began to perceive that her friends’ attention, as well as that of every woman in the room, was now focused on something—or someone—else. Whipping her head around, she saw Emma. And not Emma as she was now, overweight, looking almost sloppy, with her clothing straining at the seams. This Emma was slim. The lines of her face were now clear, with defined cheekbones. Her deep-brown eyes were larger, glowing with life and happiness.
“Emma! Goodness, young lady, you look wunderbaar! I never knew you had such large eyes!”
“Emma Lapp! You succeeded! You lost the weight! Come here—you look so happy!”
Everyone who had been surrounding Barbara as she related a long-winded tale of her adventures with Michael had drifted away, now clustering around her newly slim sister. Even Abby had lost some weight, and she looked attractive as well.
Barbara swallowed her anger. She knew how she could make her sisters ugly again. She’d just start giving them more servings of her dishes. But this was nothing compared to when everyone was at a lunch after Sunday service. Even the men noticed how Emma looked. Most of them nodded with approval, but some of the unmarried men began to stare at her, then whisper among themselves, competing for who would get to begin courting her.
“Mam! Michael fell!”