Little Man has autism. Actually, I’d rather say he lives with Special Abilities or Interesting Quirks. People frown upon the word Autism and immediately judge.
Someone actually said to me last week “Well, there’s a lot of it about”. Another comment from someone else was “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it!”.
So I’ve found that instead of saying he is Autistic, it is better to say he has Interesting Quirks. As an example, read the post “Today I held a Poo”
I shouldn’t be worrying about what people think. To be honest, I don’t give a stuff. However, I do care about what Little Man thinks.
We’ve not told him he’s got a label. What will be gained from it at this age?
Before I had Little Man, I confess I was one of those people that assumed it was bad behaviour. Now, don’t get me wrong, he can throw one Hell of a tantrum! There is a difference between that and a meltdown though.
When he has a tantrum he knows full well what he is doing. You can make a threat of a consequence and it can be enough to make him cave.
When he’s having a meltdown (and that can follow a tantrum if we don’t get it under control), he is gone. He has left the building as we call it. His eyes glaze over and he looks up to the side. He frowns. He switches off. I could threaten to delete every world in Minecraft and he wouldn’t even blink.
I hate it when it happens because I know there is no way on earth I’m going to get through. No way at all. It is a waiting game.
We had such a thing last night. I’d made the mistake of changing his routine as a one off. I didn’t think it through. I know that he has to stick to a routine, but nope, for once I treated him like any other 6 year old.
So, it came to bedtime and he lost it. He didn’t want to go to bed because we hadn’t done all the other things that we do before bed. I’m not talking about teeth and bath etc. I’m talking about leisurely things, small things. We do the same thing, at the same time, every day.
When I say “lost it”, I don’t mean anger. I mean he just went. My mistake was instead of just going and starting the routine again, I stuck to my guns. My head was already pounding and I thought I could reason with him. Waste. Of. Time.
His panic set in, his eyes glazed over and I lost him. I offered him hugs, I tried to placate him but failed. I tried to start the routine again. Too little too late.
In the end we sat. We sat and sat and sat. It’s the best thing to do, the only thing to do. Just me and him, side by side. A big gap between us because if I get too close when he’s like that then he freaks out.
Eventually he became him again, the cloud lifted and he came and curled up on my lap like a tiny little boy.
The next morning, the first thing he said to me was “Mummy, I have to give you four hugs”. I asked him why.
He replied “Because you asked me for them last night and I wouldn’t give you them”.
He is a sweet little boy but he doesn’t think like you and I.
Parenting a child with autism isn’t about trying to change the way they think. It’s about changing the way that we think.
