We have been sorting through all the junk in our house,
organizing and tossing things. Today my son stumbled upon a DVD that
accompanied some dump truck toy he got the Christmas before he turned 2.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, his facing lighting up. “It’s my stinky
movie.”
“Stinky movie??” I repeated, dubious. “What does it smell
like?”
“No, Stinky is the dump truck! Remember?”
Barely. I certainly didn’t remember his name was Stinky, but
sure enough, that is his name on the DVD. I was surprised my son could recall
this fact. His dump truck is in a toy box somewhere—he still has it. But that
DVD? We watched it once, when we opened the toy, over 2 years ago, and then
promptly discarded it. My son wasn’t calling me “mommy” at this point. He had,
like, a handful of words at the time. What the hell does he mean “Oh, mom, do
you remember Stinky??” Ha. Ridiculous.
He sure is good with names, though…
He has met several of my friends and coworkers, and never
forgets any of them. If he hears me mention them by name in a conversation, he
chimes in. “Oh, Samuel! I LIKE Samuel! Is he coming over?”
No doubt he is the Ultimate Power Rangers Trivia Master,
knowing every Ranger and every villain in every different Power Rangers show
existing—and there are a lot of different ones, now. There are unicorns and
dinosaurs and shit.
Typical autistic obsession? Potentially totally useless?
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
He DOES read. He was playing this first grade level reading
game on the computer, and flying through it with ease. “Well, I’ll be damned,
you really can read, huh, Son,” I said.
“Yeah. Don’t say ‘damn.’” He didn’t even look away from his
game. Cocky little bad-ass.
Parlor trick? I don’t know. What does it mean to be an early
reader with no story telling skills and so far no real expression of reading
comprehension? Does it have to mean something? Could it be a really cool thing
just because it is indicative of the awesome complexities of the human brain?
I am not sure. I have strong feelings that are more
instinctual than anything.
It is still really
hard to hold an actual conversation with my son. Our relationship doesn’t
suffer for it, but I think his peer relationships do, and sometimes I just
panic and start thinking he’s doomed if we don’t get him back into speech therapy. Although I know that he is a smart kid, I
worry that if he does not understand certain concepts verbally, he has no
chance of understanding them in some other context. Then I see his natural
ability to soak up facts, names, and information, and I am less worried about
the verbal skills.
I think I’ve pictured this smart, yet ignorant child, who is
“exposed” to less information than his peers because he can’t verbally keep up.
In reality, he is exposed to different
things, as well as the same things through different avenues. In reality, his
inability to express something in a way that I understand is just not related
at all to his actual level of comprehension. I know that on paper it seems I’m
talking about things I should have learned in Autism 101—common truths about
differences in learning styles, communication abilities, and neurology. I
think, however, that a deeper understanding of these simple truths is required
in order to face our own biases when it comes to what constitutes as
Application of Knowledge, and realize it is not to be confused with Expressions
of Knowledge Communicated towards Others. One can apply knowledge without
showing someone else how they are doing it. Just because my son didn’t call me “mommy”
until he was almost 3 doesn’t mean he didn’t know I was “mommy.” I assumed he
didn’t know. It’s possible he didn’t know. This whole Stinky the Dump Truck reminiscence
has me reconsidering my assumptions.
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