Whitterer on Autism

Say “hi” to “Nonna” for me.

On Labour Day afternoon after another nocturnal phase with my older son, we are determined to wear them all out in the pool. It is immediately apparent that the water is one degree cooler than on the previous day. My youngest son, in his wet suit, shrieks as his toe touches. Only 18 lengths to go. I do not know how many breaths the average person takes per minute. I do know that every breath equates to one 50 decibel shriek of agony interspersed with cries of “I gonna freeze into an iceberg.” Despite the protests he persists and doesn’t escape from his watery end, but continues to persevere and decrease his average length time. I’m sure that all of our neighbours also enjoyed the experience of his progress as they certainly couldn’t fail to hear the running commentary.

Afterwards he is calmer, spent and in a much more malleable frame of mind, which is just as well as we thrash our way through the evening meal:-

“All I’m saying is that perhaps, just this once, you could share your chocolate pudding with your brother and sister?”
“I would raver die!”
“Come along now, it’s not really fair that you get two desserts every night is it?”
“It is justice for the poison one.”
“Well if it Queen’s Pudding scored a 3 then it’s not really in the same category as poison, is it? Could you give it a try, just this once? I just didn’t have time to make dessert tonight.”
“O.k. but only a very teeny tiny one, not dah whole darned puddin.”
“Ah thank you dear, that’s so sweet of you…..so mature.”
“Dis is dee manifestation of adultishness.”
“For you…..that is most probably quite right.”

“I have an incredibly brilliant solution to the problem,” he announces as he dives into the stationery drawer to rummage around. “I have invented safety improvements.” His toe still bleeds. The supply of band aides is running low. He reaches for the tape dispenser and reels off a strip longer than his own arm to wrap around the band aid on his toe. “Dere you go! If life gives you lemons make bloody beef stew.”
“!”

The artist sets to work with her little brother as model, caught by the throat, one handed life drawing. Miss Incredible, who can extort the required behaviour without apparent force.
“Ugh you have dog breath,” he squirms.
“Grrrrr sit still you little mongrel or I’ll eat yah fer breakfast. A dogs’ breakfast!”
“Meow.”
His older brother watches, cautious in his Vampire suit, “can’t eat Vampires anyways.”
“Shut up Mister, your turn’s next so take those teeth out…..I said now!”
“!”

If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to“DJ Kirkby” over at “Chez Aspie” and test your brain power.

“Nonna” always welcomes visitors.

Only tiny ones for us after our four day weekend.

One:-

Read and weed some, so that the pile goes down.

And two:-

Each child to reproduce a picture of ‘cat’ to inspire “Nonna” to get on with her commissioned portrait of next door’s moggy

= done.

That’s about all I can manage for “today.”

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Hosted by “Tracy” at “Mother May I,” but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

I have made a Bakewell Tart and a couple of loaves of fresh bread but I am completely incapable of filling in the rest of the menu for the night as my brain has been numbed by twenty minutes of the sing songy exchange:-
“Come to the dark side.”
“The health inspectors are here!”

I don’t know from whence it has come, but I sincerely I hope that it doesn’t stay too long as the Boris Karloff maniacal laugh that accompanies it, is far too realistic for peace of mind. Frankly I do not consider this an improvement on Axel F sung at 50 decibels in chorus, even though once upon a time I did find the theme song to Beverly Hills Cops quite jolly. I remind myself that it is just a phase, a phase during which we are quite likely to starve to death as the noise level interferes with what little brain activity I have left. For those unfamiliar with the updated version of this song, which depicts as ever so slightly “demented frog” with a foreign accent who continually punctuates bars with the ditty “bing, bing, bing,” in a thoroughly electronic tone of voice. So I’m just saying, a word to the wise, do not allow your children access to U-tube, no matter how virally popular something might be at school when that video is linked to the “Gummy Bear” contagion with the same electronic voices, you may soon find yourself as a parent with a serious brain infection. I do not know exactly how many languages this has been translated into thus far, but I do know that this is not the ideal way to learn French or Japanese. You have been warned. The only up side to the current nightmare is that my son has decided that robot dancing is the way ahead. He exerts enough energy to make a small dent in his energy reserves after his 30 minute limit. That said, now I come to think of it, I think I have the perfect recipe for dinner………frogs legs.

Spare a thought for “Nonna.”

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Speech delays are curious things. If you combine them with a smattering of echolalia, sprinkle with scripts and stir in a penchant for colloquialisms, you can end up with a very special recipe. So if you also find that you can’t remember the name of an actor, or that the name of the movie is on the tip of your tongue or you can’t remember the right word, try these strategies instead. Don’t say ‘er, um, actually….’

Try:-

“We’ll be right back……after these messages.”

Or:-

“I have short term memory loss.”

Be imaginative and try alternative strategies to solve unusual problems:-

“If your dog doesn’t have a leash use the dog’s tongue instead coz they’re better by design, inbuilt.”

Appreciate expanding social awareness:-

“Elders” are takin over dah world!”

Always try and keep your sense of humour well oiled:-

“It’s called butt kissing.”

Full of activities so my productivity is more or less zilch.

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Child abductions are rare but currently in the news, as are a rash of sex offenders. These things are on my mind when my son unlocks all the locks on the front door and bounds out into the garden at 7:40 in the morning. He dashes down the path all legs and limbs like Bambi. He stops at the gate and hangs on it before he glances back at me to give me a thumbs up sign. He gives me another thumbs up sign because he knows that I am old and may not understand the hand gesture of the young and hopefully hip because he’s considerate like that. He argues with himself for a few moments, debating. I watch him debate as he weighs the matter up, both sides before his better side sighs and stomps back to the house, to me, his mother, who is waiting. He takes the ‘yell through the open window’ option, “iz o.k. mom……I’m waiting for dah bus.” I beam, “I guessed that!” He flaps a hand in my direction a dismissal and a whatever before his feet turn to propel him back to his waiting position, his body follows a nano second later.

Too many ‘firsts’ to count.

He does press ups on the gate post to pass the time of day. His body is precarious as it wobbles to and fro over the top of the gate but he doesn’t topple over into the street. His cat waits with him winding in and out of the picket fence posts. I watch from behind the window as a humming bird darts in and out of the flowers in the forefront with the back drop of my son, my much larger son. He gasps as the cat departs and flits across the road. I watch him resist but impulse control is always a trial. I know he’d fall for that one:- ‘here’s a picture of my kitten, can you help me find him?’ We’ve talked about it with all of them but there will always be a new line of temptation for the unwary. Children by their very nature are unwary. Parents see them grow and learn, we are wary, worried and watchful because we need to nurture their independence without paying a higher price. He vaults into a victory dance, opened mouthed silent yelling as the bus pulls in.

I enjoy another pointless conversation with my children now that we have conversations, pointless and otherwise. “Come on you two, let’s play hide and seek with Fred.” My older son looks pleased at the prospect, his younger brother thinks I am a fool, “why we play hide and go seek wiv a tortoise? Are you nuts mom?”
“Not at all. Come on it’ll be fun.”
“Not fun.”
“Yes it is. Anyway it’s not fair as Fred’s already hidden himself and unless you go and find him he’ll be hiding for ever.”
“Dat’s not good…..if no-one comes lookin for ya.”
“Right! So come into the garden and see if you can find him.”
“He is losted?”
“No he’s hiding.”
“Oh…dats o.k. I already seened him when I came home from school.”
“Yes but now he’s in the pen outside but you won’t be able to find him as he’s hiding.” They’re less enthusiastic than I would wish but still compliant. I wax lyrical, “it’s quite amazing how he’s camouflaged himself, in the grass, he’s invisible. We peer into the pen to see four square feet of grass and no tortoise, or at least, I can’t see him. “May be he sneaked up the down pipe like the incy wincy spider?”

“He ain’t no spider mom. Anyways up down……he’s dere. We found him. Wot now?”
“You can see him, already? Point to him. Show me where?”
“Dere!”
“Can you see him too?” I check with his brother.
“Sure! He right dere.”
“Point to him dear.” He steps over the fence, reaches in and pulls out Fred, just like that! “Iz o.k. mom wiv your old and mold eyes.”
“!”