Our daughter was 9 when our son Scott was born. Around that time, she learned that all of the magical beings in her life (Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy) were not real and she was devastated. Not because these magical creatures turned out false, but because we’d told her they were real.
Tag: parenting autism
As we researched autism and all of the senses the condition affects, we discovered that to Scott — to his brain’s situational awareness in the world where all of his senses come in unfiltered and out of sync — his perception is that his life did depend on him clinging to me. Much like vertigo can attack someone with a fear of heights, as soon as those wheels wobbled even fractionally on his bike, his brain immediately told him that his life was in peril. No amount of encouragement could redirect him long enough to focus on his other senses and control the bike.
To our little third wheel, he felt like he was drowning while fleeing from a shark.
Gregg and I watched The Accountant the other night. Going into it, I didn’t know what it was about. I mean, I’m all about campy action movies, Ben Affleck is on the movie poster holding a sniper rifle. Gregg had already cleared it through PluggedIn to make sure that nothing in it went against our viewing standards. I’m in. I don’t necessarily need to know anything more.
For the first time ever, I sat at a party surrounded by complete strangers and completely relaxed. I didn’t worry that Scott would say something completely off-base, possibly even insulting, to one of the adults. I knew if he did, they’d get that it is just a black-and-white boy with no filter. I didn’t worry that he didn’t want to take part in any of the party activities and how the other kids or parents would think he was “weird”. He was absolutely and totally accepted when he walked into that house and nothing he said, did, or didn’t do would be taken in a negative light.