Daddy was making a speedway run.

“Do you want anything, buddy?”

“A donut”

The donut does have sprinkles but it’s frosting? White. This is unacceptable.

I feel my son’s energy change. Watch as his face falls. Tears fill his eyes. I register his distress.

I know what comes next, so what do I do?

I fix it.

I melt chocolate chips and “frost” the donut. I douse it with sprinkles. I do all of this knowing that my son will pick off the sprinkles, leaving the rest uneaten.

I am well aware that the vast majority will see this as bad parenting. I am also aware that a good portion of the population would see my son as spoiled…a brat.

Here’s the thing, my son is PDA. My son has a nervous system disability where something as seemingly small and insignificant as the wrong frosting on a donut is registered by his nervous system as a survival threat. A threat to his very life.

I know that if I don’t allow him to complete the threat response in a way that allows him to feel a sense of safety, that threat will stay in his nervous system. These small, seemingly insignificant threats can add up to big trauma for my son and others like him.

Given the cumulative nature of the effects of these threats on my son’s nervous system, I know that before long my son will be gagging every time he eats, vomiting often, his nervous system in such a sensitive state that he cannot handle food. I will be unable to get him to bathe, possibly for months at a time. His sleep will become restless. Meltdowns will occur daily.

These “small” threats can prevent a PDAer from accessing survival needs. These threats are very real to a PDA nervous system. PDA is a nervous system disability. My son is disabled, so, yeah, I will continue to spend my days accommodating him. I will allow him to use equalizing to come back to a regulated state. Even when it looks ridiculous. No matter who believes me or who doesn’t. Even if you see me as a bad mom.