After Anthony reaches a certain age, it appears we may be able to have the state pay for him to be in a home for those like him.  This would certainly free my wife and me to be able to do things we could not otherwise, and yet I find myself at times thinking that I would still want to try to take care of him as long as I am physically able; after all, he is my son and I do love him.  I don't like the prospect of him potentially being unhappy with his living arrangements, whether or not we can see that is the case.

Unfortunately, however, reality sometimes smacks me hard in the face (I know that isn't grammatically correct).  Today, that was almost a literal statement.  For some reason, Anthony wanted to engage me physically.  I refused to do it--that's how it usually works, for those of you who don't read this blog much.  Anthony responded by writhing on the floor; blowing out the contents of his nose at me; slamming his head into the door, then the cabinets; then trying to come after me again with hands, feet, and head; and on and on.  I was certain he was going to put his head through the door or cabinets, so I told him to target the edge of the sink counter instead, hoping that would get it out of his system and cause him some discomfort at the same time.  However, he stood up, and managed to hit the top of the counter with such force that he broke it completely through.  Then he went after the mirror.  Oh boy.  I managed to stop him before he broke that as well, and thankfully he seemed on the downside of his rage, so I had him go into his room where he continued ranting for a few minutes but calmed down without further incident.

I guess, if there is a positive to this, it will be that I don't feel much guilt over eventually letting go of him.  I know it is probably what we should do anyway, for a number of reasons.  But I think I will probably still see it as sad, if only for the same reasons that we feel sad about letting our other children go as well.