Quirky might be the best word to describe him. When he was just a year old, he developed an attachment to these fluffy snow boots and wore them all through 2009—yes, even in summer, with shorts and no socks. Let me tell you, those were the smelliest baby feet I had ever encountered!
After his boot phase, he transitioned into a pair of fireman rain boots gifted by a neighbor. He wore them with pride, ready to tackle every puddle that came his way during his two-to-three-year-old adventures. But his quirks didn’t stop at footwear. I remember one day opening the toy box only to discover it was nearly empty. It took me days to realize he had stuffed all his toys into various backpacks, which he insisted on lugging around everywhere—sometimes even falling asleep on the floor with them strapped to his back.
He still has a knack for artfully packing bags. However, things took a turn when he got sick; his quirks became more entrenched in his daily life. The adorable habits he once had morphed into anxiety-driven routines that needed to be completed. That’s a glimpse into what OCD can look like for a child.
Imagine having all these thoughts tugging at you, demanding your attention, and no matter how hard you try to ignore them, they just won’t let up. It’s a relief when you finally give in to them, but then you panic—what if someone noticed?
On top of the OCD, he also deals with a tic disorder, making him perform repetitive movements like eye-blinking and even some odd sounds like throat clearing. When things get overwhelming, he starts to worry about whether others are watching. While he enjoys being different in a positive way, he fears being seen as different in a negative light, and he understands how people can make that distinction.
Recently, he’s made strides in managing his disorder—thanks to weekly sessions with his cognitive behavior therapist and a whirlwind of life changes. It’s a beautiful yet challenging cycle. We still have tough days and weeks, but there are also incredible moments where I realize how much I cherish who he’s becoming.
He tends to ponder things that other kids might overlook—topics like death, aging, and the world’s issues. He’s more accepting of things that others often question, more expressive with his affection, and he’s got this delightful honesty that is both charming and disarming.
Last week, he started second grade. On the second day, he came down wearing his shirt inside out and backward. This sparked a conversation:
Me: “Oh, so you’re doing that? I thought it was just a summer thing.”
Him: “Yeah, I like it this way.”
Me: “Just a heads up, you might get a lot of questions.”
Him: “Maybe, but I think it’ll be fine.”
When he got home, he had changed into a shirt that was still inside out but not backward.
Me: “Oh, you changed?”
Him: “Yeah, I got tired of people questioning me. They thought I was confused, but really, it was them!”
He’s got a handle on his own identity; it’s everyone else who struggles to keep pace with him. He’s used to being the odd one out, the unexpected twist in plans, the outlier who challenges the norm.
And oh, let’s talk about his socks—they never match and never really did, apart from his baby days and a brief period in kindergarten when I tried to impose some order. He would unfold matching pairs just to choose two mismatched ones. Eventually, he reached a point where he’d dig into the laundry and pick any two socks, completely disregarding color or style. Now, he’s a bit more selective—at least one sock must be tall; bright patterns are preferred, and white is strictly off-limits.
It’s become a trend so popular that other parents have approached me, thanking me for easing their laundry burdens. You’re welcome, but it’s all him! I even had to ask him why he prefers mismatched socks.
Me: “What’s the deal with the socks?”
Him: “They don’t match.”
Me: “I mean, I get that, but why?”
Him: “Because life doesn’t need to be perfect. Different is interesting, and I want an interesting life. Plus, I can never find the matches anyway.”
And there I was, crying all the tears. I feel so fortunate to have this beautiful soul in my life. I asked him how he felt about our connection.
Me: “I’m so happy you chose me for your Mommy.”
Him: “I didn’t. God sent me because He knew we’d be good together.”
Can’t argue with that!
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In summary, my son’s quirks, while sometimes challenging, are what make him unique and intriguing. He has a different perspective on life that allows him to embrace the world in an extraordinary way. I’m grateful for every moment with him.