When I wake up in the morning, my eyes open wide but my body feels heavy. The sunlight through the window is so bright it makes me squint. Mommy helps me get dressed, but the shirt feels scratchy on my skin and I don’t like the tag. I pull at it and cry until she cuts it off. Then I feel better. Mommy always keeps scissors close because she knows scratchy clothes make my body feel upset.

When we get to school, everything is loud. I hear kids laughing, shoes squeaking, and papers crinkling all at once. My brain tries to listen to everything, but it makes me feel like I’m spinning. My hands flap and my feet stomp because my body has too many feelings. Sometimes people stare, but I don’t mean to be different. My teacher shows me the picture schedule on the wall, and it helps me know what comes next. I point to “circle time,” and I feel a little calmer because I know what to expect.

During circle time, the teacher says, “Sit down, friends!” I want to listen, but my legs don’t want to stay still. I wiggle and twist in the chair. I see the toy car across the room and I can’t stop thinking about it. I really, really want it now. When she says “not yet,” my tummy feels tight and I cry loud. The words I need are stuck inside me. I shout and push things away, and everyone looks. I feel mad and sad at the same time. But then my teacher holds up a choice card and points to “help.” I tap it, and she understands I need a break.

She kneels beside me and says my name soft. She gives me a squeeze ball for my hands, and my fingers press into it until they stop shaking. She lets me jump on the mat five times before I sit again. My body feels lighter. I can breathe better. My tears go away. I smile because someone understands.

At the end of the day, I build a tower with blocks. When it falls, I laugh, and the other kids laugh too. My teacher claps and says, “Good building!” I like when people laugh with me, not at me. I like when I can show them I’m happy. I am trying every day to be part of the group. With my tools, my schedule, and my helpers, I am learning. I am growing. I am just a little kid who wants to play, to laugh, and to be loved—just like everybody else.