Happy Halloween!

(Shrug)

Well, anywho. Halloween is over. On to Thanksgiving. On to Christmas. The Retail Shuffle. Feast or famine?? We will have to wait and see!

Wylie had a marvelous Halloween! His cartoon shows have been playing Halloween episodes since September, and he had been asking me to take him trick or treating daily for a while now. About a month ago, I started asking him what he wanted to be for Halloween. I didn’t know if he’d answer. I didn’t know if he knew what I was talking about. I didn’t know that he would care what he wanted to be even if he understood me. But eventually he settled on a ninja costume, and he picked the most gruesome ninja costume he could have possibly picked. In the beginning of October, we bought some pumpkins to decorate our front porch, and Wylie was impatient about cutting into them. When the time finally came, he insisted on Happy pumpkin faces, not scary. He heard this on Agent Oso, but he wasn’t exactly scripting. He had just created this personal narration about Halloween based on observations and context clues. Friggen genius. And he’s so confident in his ability to assess the “sitch.” It’s really gonna be funny when he’s a teenager and his arrogance gets him burned, but for now, yeeeah! Way to believe in yourself, Son. You da man.

When the actual day came, I donned my spunkiest costume EVER, and this still consisted of a half assed witch hat and some funky witch shoe covers over my Chucks. It was awesome and fun, anyway. The plan was simple- I would take my son trick or treating in our neighborhood until my hubby got home from work, when we would hit up his parents’ neighborhood. It’s tradish. Hehe.

I talked to Wylie about the game plan. “All right, Wylie, so, you’re gonna knock on the door, and then when they open the door, you say, ‘Trick or Treat!’ and then you get your candy, and you say, ‘Thank you!’ and then ‘Happy Halloween!’” I was really excited about the script, actually. Last Halloween, Wylie was largely unintelligible in his speech and his responsiveness was hit or miss. And, you know, he was two, and it didn’t make for any awkwardness or apprehension, and it wasn’t a big deal, but it’s still exciting to engage in slightly more meaningful ritualism, now that Wylie kinda “gets” Halloween, for real.

He did well. I mean, it’s hard to fuck up Halloween, but still, he did well! And many times, you could tell he became overwhelmed by his senses. And he would just freeze. Not in terror, and for that, you know, we’re grateful. He just had to deal with his sensory input right quick.

He flipped his shit once when he knocked on a door that went unanswered. That was some bulllshit, anway, but I suppose it’s all in good pranking fun to have your entire house decorated and all your friggen lights on, just to psych out little kids (little autistic kids, at that). Well played, Neighborino. Well played.

He got kinda ticked off when people were posted outside with candy. Didn’t fit into his personal narrative, I’d guess. A couple times he would tell the neighbor, “I go ring the door, and you give me candy, at the door.” After a few times of this request being denied, he huffed and asked to go home. I shrugged and we headed home. I was just, you know, being laid back on Halloween, but Wylie figured I called his bluff. He immediately asked to go back out, and from then on, he accepted candy handed out in front yards without an argument.

When my husband got home, we headed over to my in laws, and the Halloween spirit was strong in my little one. He’s usually fairly behaved at his grandparents’ house, but this time, upon arrival, he began juggling the antique knick knacks. His grandmother shooed him out the door. 

On to more Trick or Treating! He didn’t always get the script exactly as we practiced. Sometimes he didn’t say anything. Sometimes he was a little imposing. Oftentimes he asked to go inside and hang out. This ONE lady made the mistake of saying he “could have anything he wanted. What do you want??”

His response? “Your piano.” Well, really. Whose fault was that? We laughed it off, and it was obvious he felt a genuine sense of injustice when he insisted, “But! I want to play the piano!” But he’s three, and adorable, so, we laughed at his expense some more, before I encouraged him to accept some M&Ms with grace. He did. Rockin’.

Anyway, we went back to show his grandparents his loot, and then we headed home. He wasn’t the least bit interested in his candy that night, but I think he psyched me out. He was sooo uninterested, I left his little pumpkin bucket within arms reach, and then tonight I caught him helping himself to lollypops and tootsie rolls. Well played, Son. Well played.

The next morning, he asked to go Trick or Treating, “one more time.” I explained, you know, it’s this annual event, and he’d have to wait. He then asked to go to Africa.

Okay. Right on! Happy Halloween!

On Halloween, and Social Transgressions

Ah, Halloween.

Um. My favorite holiday. Hands down. Which is funny, because, my entire life, I have phoned in my costumes. Yuh. I don’t think I’ve ever put too much thought into what I was going to wear for Halloween. But I love me some Halloween because it’s all about pranks, and candy, and partying, and shenanigans.

I think my foreign friends overthink Halloween, but I am going to try very hard not to judge or mock. But, I mean, seriously. The whole entire point of Halloween is, like, not bein’ too uptight. (Fake frenemy smile) Love you…

But anywho. Halloween. This is Wylie’s… 4^th Halloween? Right? In 2009, he was a dragon. He was 9 months old and walking. In 2010… he was a…skeleton. It was an ill fitting costume. 2011 he was Buzz Lightyear, and he was friggen adorable, and very happy to be Buzz. So this was the 4^th Halloween, and this year, he was a zombie ninja.

YEAH. Ha, ha. A ZOMBIE NINJA. With a bloody ninja star protruding out of his head. YEAH! I know, like, gee, do I want a cookie or something for bein’ edgy?

Uh, yeah. Cuz, wtf. Cuz costume taboos are kinda lame, and people get serious about them. I think there is a pretty good reason to reject slutty, sexual costumes for prepubescents. Other than that, um, I think you’re overthinking Halloween again.

Um. And I feel the need to express an unpopular opinion here about manners and respectful conduct. Um. While I have learned a LOT in my adult life about the value of politeness, and social reciprocity, and the like, I still think there is something inherently wrongheaded about prioritizing Not Making Transgressions over Forgiving Transgressions, social or otherwise, but we will stick to social ones in this context. I believe people often put a HUGE burden on others not to BOTHER them, when, really, it goes AGAINST the value of cooperation, the value of compromise, and the value of, you know, learning to be an adult, and dealing with inconveniences.

And I mean that in general, but yeah, the topic of Halloween got me thinkin’ about it. I just cannot imagine the value of being upset about an underdressed child on your doorstep on Halloween. Really. I really don’t see the slight.

And, you know, this gets me thinking about the whoooole argument that, “We all need to be a little more compassionate when it comes to rude little assholes, because they may just have a disability.” I think this is an awesome thing to point out, and all, but at what point do we say, “Um, have more compassion. Period.”?? At what point do we say that part of being out in public and being part of society is accepting that people may behave in a way we personally find distasteful, or even downright wrong? At what point do we say that waiting around for people to behave the way YOU personally see fit is far more imposing than exposing someone to behavior they may find distasteful- just by being in close proximity to them??

I could go on and on. Believe it or not, I’ve barely set the soapbox down, much less climbed up on top of it, yet. But I didn’t even really mean to go there, honestly, and it’s a little ironic to get, like, seriously outraged because other people get outraged too much, so. I gotta lose the passion, and the train of thought, for now. Much love!

On Acceptance

The fight is so old and cliché, but let me lay down my take, as long as I care, momentarily.

My current perception, in general terms, is that most people agree that Autistic People deserve love, respect, and civil rights, and we should do our best as a society to provide needed support and treatment.

Just about everyone seems to agree with that. There are rare exceptions at the polar ends of the Acceptance Conversation, ranging from “The Problems Associated with Autism are Purely Social” to “Autism Needs to be Cured/Eradicated Because My Life as a Parent Is Difficult.” Um, these are extremely rare stances to encounter, if only because people with these views don’t attempt meaningful discussion, and most people will agree that they are wrongheaded.

Those with more moderate opinions on all sides tend to imply that those with opposing views fall into one of these Rare Polar Categories, while simultaneously inferring that their opponent is suggesting they are at the polar opposite.

An argument ensues where each opponent denies holding a polar position, and throws out a few vague examples of the moderate-ness of their position—usually things that, broadly speaking, they all actually agree on.

But the devil is in the details, and everybody’s feelings are hurt past the point of being able to have a productive conversation about them.

No, it’s not abundantly clear that acceptance of autistic people and negative feelings towards autism are mutually exclusive ideas.

No, it’s not obvious that you accept your child when you publicly focus on the burdens autism imposes—on NT loved ones, and NT loved ones, only.

No, disagreeing with an autist on a divisive issue isn’t equivalent to paving the way for social oppression for future autistic generations.

No, not every personal expression by self advocates about Neurodiversity is a personal attack on parents.

No, not every response to an autistic POV with an explanation of an NT POV is an attempt to oppress or silence autists.

I’m not saying that any of these ideas are inherently FALSE, I’m just pointing out that they are up for debate, for sure. And what happens is that people will lump these debatable concepts into their own, personal feelings about acceptance, and then REFUSE to discuss them because the issue at hand is Us vs. Them, or someone else making it about Us vs. Them, or Pro-Acceptance vs. Anti-Acceptance, or Pro-Treatment vs. Anti-Treatment. Pro-Respect or Anti-Respect. Obviously. The truth is, everybody is so busy identifying with a philosophy that they are failing to engage.

And it’s boring. Politics. So similar to the US Two Party System that it’s amusing. It says WAY more about human nature than it does about ASD/NT or disabled/nondisabled relationship dynamics. From where I’m standing, anyway.

Trip to the Dentist. Ick.

How to be informative and engaging and… sincere, all at the same time…

I don’t know. I don’t know if any of this is necessary. I don’t need it as an outlet. I’d like to think it’s a good public record of things. For me. For others.

We went to the dentist for the first time, earlier this week. I was apprehensive about someone putting their hands in my son’s mouth, but other than that, I thought things would go smoothly. He’s always good at the doctor’s office. I told him ahead of time what we were doing. He understood.

And then we got there, and there was smooth jazz coming out of speakers mounted outside. I wouldn’t have even heard it, except as we approached the building, my son covered his ears and stiffened up. By the time we got to the front door, he was backing up. A quiet whimper escaped him, but when I gestured to him to take my hand, he ran ahead of me, but kept both hands over his ears.

As I was filling out paper work, my son paced back and forth with his hands over his ears. I was completely unprepared for his sensory aversion. He does have some auditory sensitivities, but. This was the first time I had seen him unable to cope. And the heartbreaking thing was—he usually copes. He toughs it out. He sucks it up.  So if he wasn’t able to cover his ears and suffer briefly and silently… I knew it was extremely unpleasant for him. For the first time, ever, I found myself approaching the staff and explaining his autism. The experience was rather meaningful at this stage in our journey. I have put intensive intervention behind us, and right now, things are feeling strangely typical. I feel, for the most part, that I’m pretty accepting of the fact that my son “still has autism” although, at this stage, it doesn’t seem so terribly disabling. And then a disabling aspect of his autism emerges and totally catches me off guard.

(Shrug)

Life on the Other Side

So how’s life on the other side of Intensive Early Intervention?

Well, who knows, we’re only a few weeks into it. It’s NICE not driving 2 hours a day back and forth between his ABA school and home. He misses his friends, and I may have to arrange a few play dates in the future. I still haven’t written out a proper thank you to the staff, although in person, on his last day, I couldn’t get it out without bursting into tears. Not all loose ends are even tied up, yet.

He’s attending a preschool and we haven’t disclosed his diagnosis. While I cannot say for sure if this is the right decision, it’s really something I want to try. It’s not a light decision at all. I think there is a chance Wylie could benefit from some support, and this is a private school with a professional staff, eager to please their clients. At the same time, I feel very strongly about Wylie being held to the same expectations as his peers, and that we’ll all take a behavioral approach to any problems that arise. I don’t want issues dismissed because of a teacher’s preconceived ideas about the limitations of autism. I’d love to educate some people, but I don’t think it is that simple. People have unconscious biases, and right now, I think those unconscious biases could negatively impact my kid.

And, so far, it seems, so good. When I drop him off, his teacher greets him and expects a greeting in return. She tells him what activity is going on and gives him clear instructions to join. I have heard the children yell out to greet him upon his arrival.

The other day, I brought him in, and I had to prompt him to look up and greet every person we came into contact with on our walk to class. Frustrated, I asked the teacher about his behavior. Oh wait. Rather, I blurted out, “Does he ever talk?”

She laughed. “Wylie? Yeah… he talks.” Like it was a ridiculous question. Like, “of course he talks!”

“Okay,” I said, a little reassured. “Okay. And is he getting along with the other kids?” Wylie hasn’t told me much about his classmates. He has only mentioned one by name.

“Everybody loves him! He’s a bit of a class clown.”

Heh. And her answer still makes me nervous, because Wylie can be a little smart ass. I try very, very hard to be a good parent and curb his back talk, but he’s so damn funny sometimes. Both sets of grandparents just outright reinforce his sass with howling laughter.

I was with my mother the other day, and he had been bossy and selfish earlier, and I was cross with him. I was telling her about his bad behavior, right in front of him. Wylie interrupted me rather abruptly. “MOM! Don’t say that. You shouldn’t say that.”

I actually stopped, thinking maybe I dropped a curse word. “What’s wrong? Did Mommy say a bad word?”

“No… you’re just loud. And boring.” My mother thought it was hilarious. Thanks, Mom. Way to help out. Heh.

Ah well. He’s a cool cat. And I am having some fun spending more time with him, although I do not regret ANY of the time spent driving all over town, from ABA to speech to school, over and over again. The fall semester will start soon, and he will be in preschool full time. It’s crazy to think about how grown up he is. He’s not really a small child anymore.