What We Need

     C is full of enthusiasm. At a recent tennis class, he cheered and applauded every other child in the class whether they’d hit the ball or not. His objective was to hit the ball over the fence, and since he can’t even come close to that, he enjoyed everyone else’s ability to do it instead. “Great shot!” “Good grief, that was high!” “Holy cow!” He clapped, shouted, and jumped around excitedly as he awaited his turn to try to connect with the ball.

     The other parents watching took great delight in him, as adults generally do. The other children in the class looked at him like he was from another planet, averted their eyes and kept their distance. It was in that moment I decided perhaps C is how ALL children should be. Perhaps he has learned the lessons all of us try to teach our children; be supportive, engaged and caring. Applaud your friends’ efforts, good or bad. Take joy in their accomplishments. And most of all, cheer when they hit one over the fence.

     If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, but what if it is broke?    

    What do we do when the tools we give our children don’t work? I watched C playing ball with a group of boys the other day, and because he’s so much smaller than the other kids, he could rarely actually get to the ball fast enough. Whenever he did, another boy always wrestled it away from him. He used all the scripts we’ve given him about sharing and asking for his turn, but nothing worked. He ended up in tears on several occasions and I ended up facilitating a sharing game with the group of boys.

     I always come away from these situations frustrated with our interventions, therapies, and parents who don’t instill kindness in their children. I know boys will be boys, and I also know these boys aren’t mean kids, but when one child is the only one being singled out again and again, it crosses a line for me. I encourage C to find something else to do when he’s presented with kids who don’t follow the rules of being nice, but this is largely unsatisfying to him as he so desperately wants to participate. As adults we are able to recognize that if we’re playing with someone who is not being nice, we don’t have to play with that person anymore.

        I hate birthday parties. They generally are everything C struggles with combined into one event. Eating, waiting (for someone else to open presents), unstructured play, social situations, noise, groups of boys, and mean kids. Navigating the birthday party waters is fraught with potential disasters, most of which occurred today.

     The problem is, C loves everyone. No matter the wrong done to him, everyone is a friend. I love that about him. What I don’t like about it is the future I see for him - being picked on relentlessly. I watched today as a group of boys played a game of tag, and no one was ever “it” except for C. For anyone watching, it looked like he was fully participating in the group; what was really going on was a very subtle form of bullying. He had a blast for awhile, and then he wandered off to play alone.

      The disconnect for me is that I keep thinking because he is so kind-hearted and friendly, kids will want to be his friend despite his idiosyncracies. What I realized is he’s never going to fit into their world. You’d think I was new to his diagnosis, because every time I realize this fact, it hits me like a ton of bricks. It’s not about some desire of mine for him to be popular - I just want him to have friends, so I try to teach him the necessary skills. It’s what he wants. I’m following his lead, and I never want to give up for him or on him. 

     I had an epiphany today, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant one. I realized my child has autism. I know this in my head, but for my heart it’s always a surprise when it remembers. For all that carries with it, whatever interesting and wonderful things come out of it, it breaks my heart that what he wants the most is probably the one thing that will never come easily to him.