Impending autistic hysteria was about to break...
After exchanging our ruby red, intergalactic spaceship for a "loan car" today (as we await conversions on our new black gangsta spaceship), I received an emergency call from Jack's father saying he couldn't pick him up.
You don't play with an autistic kid's routine on a Friday. No. You certainly don't introduce "new".
I tore over the mountain, admittedly loving ripping through the manual gearbox of the paint peeling, rattling, random unidentifiably groaning, loan car, to get to J.
In my mind rattling off the variations I could use to convince Jack that this was fun and normal, not "different"...
I walked in, late, to his classroom.
He looked up and tears sprang to his eyes as he immediately started raking at his right arm (anxiety)
"Mum...but where is Dad? Dad is coming!"
Holding him, gently explaining, trying to settle him before all broke loose... then asking him, with all the enthusiastic tone I could muster, if he was ready for a "mad adventure" in a new car.
We headed out and at first glance, he gasped, more delighted than distressed,
"Mum! What is this?!"
I showed him the ramp, how the wheelchair loaded in, put him in, explaining all the way (his aides cracking up laughing at my explanations).
Locked in, ready to go, Jack was SO excited. I was surprised...a little confused...
I started the loan car and its random groan kicked up spectacularly.
Jack laughed loudly.
"What an great day, Mum! You did it! You did it Mum! You got us a real
Party Van!"
Autism: a walk in the consistently unexpected.
After exchanging our ruby red, intergalactic spaceship for a "loan car" today (as we await conversions on our new black gangsta spaceship), I received an emergency call from Jack's father saying he couldn't pick him up.
You don't play with an autistic kid's routine on a Friday. No. You certainly don't introduce "new".
I tore over the mountain, admittedly loving ripping through the manual gearbox of the paint peeling, rattling, random unidentifiably groaning, loan car, to get to J.
In my mind rattling off the variations I could use to convince Jack that this was fun and normal, not "different"...
I walked in, late, to his classroom.
He looked up and tears sprang to his eyes as he immediately started raking at his right arm (anxiety)
"Mum...but where is Dad? Dad is coming!"
Holding him, gently explaining, trying to settle him before all broke loose... then asking him, with all the enthusiastic tone I could muster, if he was ready for a "mad adventure" in a new car.
We headed out and at first glance, he gasped, more delighted than distressed,
"Mum! What is this?!"
I showed him the ramp, how the wheelchair loaded in, put him in, explaining all the way (his aides cracking up laughing at my explanations).
Locked in, ready to go, Jack was SO excited. I was surprised...a little confused...
I started the loan car and its random groan kicked up spectacularly.
Jack laughed loudly.
"What an great day, Mum! You did it! You did it Mum! You got us a real
Party Van!"
Autism: a walk in the consistently unexpected.
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