Adventures in Communication: Ped's Office Edition

Things have been a little hectic around here. Or I’m being lazy, I don’t know. It’s either the world sped up or maybe I slowed down, but it’s been kinda hard keeping up lately.

My little man got sick again. He is taking it well enough. In fact, he became rather articulate about his wants and needs. I mean, he’s being rather bossy! It’s kinda cute. For now. Heh.

I took him to the doctor early in the week. I haven’t been the one to take him to a doctor’s appointment since his 2 year check up a year ago. Now, as a 3 year old, people sort of expect more social and communicative behavior from him. It was kind of an interesting thing to watch.

“Ooh, Cars, Mommy!” he exclaimed, pointing at the TV screen as I signed him in.

“Yeah! Go sit down, and I’ll be right there.” And he took a seat by the TV. For a little bit. Then he got distracted by the fish.

“Oh, fish!” He started tapping on the glass.

“Wylie, don’t do that. Count them, or something.”

“Okay, one, two-“ he begins, tapping the glass as he pointed to the fish.

“Oh, okay, no- hey! Why don’t you go back to watching Cars?”

Wylie looked up at me with a pout. “…I sitting here.”

Aw. “Okay, well, don’t bug the fish. Hands on the seat.”

He actually put his hands on the seat. Ha ha.

When we got in to see the doctor, he was very talkative.

“Hi!” he said to the nurse.

“Hey, buddy! How are you?”

He thought for a minute, a little stumped. Finally he said, “I am 3.”

“Oh, you’re 3! But how are you doing, bud?”

“Um… My name is Wylie.”

Heh. Good trying, dude.

His most autistic moment was probably the meltdown he had over a Looney Tunes smock he was given to wear. It actually caught me off guard—he liked it until I put it on. He got hysterical and ripped it off. I gave him a moment and then I gently tried to convince him to wear it.

“Put it back!” he screamed.

“It’s got Looney Tunes. Look! Bugs!”

“Nooo!” he started on some melodramatic sobs. “No, I can’t have it right now!”

Wow. That’s officially the longest sentence I’ve ever heard come out of him.

So, at this point I give up on him, but he still keeps his eyes on the smock. He’s sitting in Spongebob undies (POTTY TRAINED!!) and socks.

“How bout… a outfit?” he suggests, pointing to his folded up shirt and pants. And at that moment, his pediatrician pops in and pooh poohs the smock.

“I don’t know why, kids either love it or hate it.”

Heh. And there you have it.  On our way out, some woman offered him a sticker. He just stared at her for a few seconds, then slowly turned towards the stickers. I was about to prompt him to answer her when he finally said “Angry birds?”  She picked out the Angry Birds sticker and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” Uh huh. He says thank you.

So, that was one little adventure we had. Thought provoking, for my own personal reasons, but for now, here’s the anecdote alone. A few months ago, he had one full sentence, taught to him at school. Now he blurts out exclamations and negotiations in order to talk his way out of Looney Tunes smocks. He had a whole arsenal of nouns a while back, and not much else. A few months ago.

My baby’s coming along.  

Have We Come Far Enough?

 It’s hard to say how I feel a lot of the time. My experience is simply that; my experience. But I’m feeling less and less like “autism mom” these days.

               

 Wylie has blossomed over the last few months. He is delayed. He is autistic. Um. But. I don’t know. I don’t think I worry about him in the same way.

                 

There’s so much to come, no doubt. I’m not saying this is the end of our journey. But he has been doing ABA for almost two years now. He is initiating social interactions with other children. He knows enough academically to participate in preschool. I’ve always had a “go-with-the-flow” personality—which has left me super anxious with the arrival of my first child, and the arrival of a diagnosis I was completely unprepared for 2 years ago. But I’m ready to give in to my natural instinct. I’m ready to just not worry so much about it.

               

 Wylie is coming in and out of the room right now. He’s playing. Gave up on the iPad for a second (there are zero autism related apps on it- he likes to bowl, or watch old Doritos superbowl comercials. I never realized how many dogs were in Doritos superbowl comercials.) I asked him if he wanted to finish his chicken. “It’s too hot!” he said.

              

  “Nuh uh, it’s not too hot, it’s been sitting here for a while, dude.”

             

    “…it’s too cold.”

            

    Uh huh. Smart ass.

             

   He’s too cute. I don’t know who taught him to exclaim “Potty time!” as he rushes off to the bathroom. Yes, it is indeed potty time. I was sort of flabbergasted at how smoothly potty training has gone. He was a little resistant in the beginning, but a few weeks of less than intensive training, and he’s a big boy now, I guess.

              

  I worried about it. I dragged my feet with starting it. And the director of his school shot me an email. The gist was, “Dude, potty train your kid. He’s going to real school soon, and he should be potty trained.” So we collaborated with the school and boom. Potty time.

              

  Have I been underestimating Wylie? If anything, I’ve always thought of myself as overly optimistic. I happily go on thinking about how great Wylie is. Brilliant. And then somebody says they are struggling with some concept Wylie is NOWHERE NEAR, like answering “why” questions. What the heck. That would go way over his head.

            

    And then the director! The Benevolent One. Always suggesting he’s not really that autistic. I’ve pretty much thought she was nuts. I mean. Her plans for Wylie have been GENIUS. She is always a few steps ahead of me. Very professional. Very insightful. But duh, Wylie’s autistic. Look, he’s flapping. He’s on his toes. He’s not talking that much. We had to TEACH him eye contact. Wylie is autistic. No doubt about it.

             

   So when she called a meeting with me to “discuss the future” I knew what was coming. I half joked to the family that she was “kicking us out” of her school. My father scoffed. “He’s not ready for regular preschool.” An idea she had already brought up once before.

            

    All I could do was sigh. I don’t know. When she brought up the idea a year ago, I thought, hmm, maybe plausible. I was just hopeful, and a professional was telling me it may be possible. Then he started attending “pre-preschool” and he had a bit of a rocky start. Well, no. That’s too harsh. There were issues that only became apparent to me when he started attending the program. How behind he is on being able to dress and undress himself. How limited his diet was. The fact that he wasn’t potty trained.

              

  But now? He’s getting better at self care- not perfect, but the practice alone has made a huge difference. His language has really flourished and I’ve been unable to catch up with it. A few months ago we weren’t even really saying sentences and now these phrases blurt out of him without hesitation. “Turn the light off!” he squeals. “Oooh, that’s scary!” “Mommy, I’m going upstairs. Come on.” “No, no bath yet. We watch this.” Yeah, he’s adorable.

        

        I went to see her and we had a long conversation. I demanded to know from her, what sets Wylie apart from all those other kids? Who talk more, listen better, eat better. And as we talked, and she explained, I realized how blind I had been, to ignore the very nature of autism. That all these children I have observed over the years- they are all unique, and all have their own strengths, and yeah, their own struggles, as well.

        

        He’s flexible, you know. Not very rigid at all. He fits in well with this family- we’re pretty laid back that way. He behaves incredibly well at school, and can follow basic directions. He’s bright- I mean, he just picks up on things very naturally. And she said that was one of the biggest things that made her think he was ready for regular school. She said, “You know… he knows how to learn. We’re beyond having to teach him.” And I knew exactly what she meant.

           

     “The other thing,” she said, “is how he has formed peer relationships, and he looks to his peers to learn now. He didn’t always do that, you know.”

       

         Well, yeah, I know. Somewhere in the last several months, Wylie started to figure out other children were good for something. He started to like to play with them, and imitate them. In fact, the honest truth is he started picking up autistic behaviors because he was copying his peers. Haha. No biggie. He talks about all his friends at home, and he’s very popular when I bring him in in the mornings. I mean, really. He always starts something fun. My kid makes other kids smile. I’m so proud.

              

  I started to become more comfortable with her ideas. I know my kid. I know he will be receptive to his peers as models for him. I think he’ll start to catch up with more practice. I just have seen things come so easily for him that I believe he will meet us wherever we set our expectations.

         

       So that’s where I am, right now. No guarantee that’s where I’ll stay, but for now, there you have it.

Three Years Old; Brand New Year

Ah, the New Year. Wonder what it holds for us.

                It has been about a year since I started this blog, right around Wylie’s 2^nd birthday. I get so caught up in the fact that we still have such a long road ahead of us that I forget how far we’ve come since his last birthday. Wylie turned 3 last week, and he has grown up so much.

                A year ago I was obsessing over the amount of words he knew. I was definitely hoping that in 6 months he would just—poof—catch up to his peers, and we would start to gear up for preschool. He has always been so vocal. He never shuts up. I mean, he does… but his mouth is moving a lot. Ha ha. The only thing, tho; most of the time what comes out of his mouth is not quite the English Language.

                We joke that he is speaking Mandarin or something. He seems to talk with intent. With focus. He says the same jibberish over and over again, like it means something to him. Shit, we assume it does mean something to him. Unfortunately, we’re not really comprehending.

                However, he has come a long way from the dozens of nouns he knew at age 2. I wouldn’t be able to keep count of the amount of words he knows—he flew through the pictures on his Language Builder cards in no time. He knows all the characters on his favorite shows, and his list of favorite shows is growing. No more nonstop Spongebob- by the way, when Wylie’s nephew referred to “Ba-Ba” the other day, we realized Wylie hadn’t mispronounced it in a long time. Spongebob is simply “Spongebob” now.

                And “Grandma” and “Grandpa” are simply “Grandma” and “Grandpa” now. That was a shocker. Wylie started off saying “A-ma” and “A-Pa” but it quickly evolved to “Mu-ma” and “Pu-pa.” It was very endearing, but rather suddenly, as in, overnight, “mu-ma” and “pu-pa” disappeared. I wonder what it was. “Mu-ma” and “Pu-pa” always tumbled out of his mouth rather clumsily, as if he got the main consonant sounds in each word, but had a hard time planning how to form them before saying them. Suddenly he got it right. My parents are rather sad about it, haha. No nicknames for you!

                What strikes me now is how he has easily grasped any tangible concept thrown at him, language wise. He gets his shapes and colors and he LOVES numbers. Animals, plants… he’s been really into this series on the Earth and he watches it with my dad. His sense of humor cracks me up, but I suppose as his mother, I’m biased. He’s just too damn funny. He’ll watch a shark swimming on TV and smirk and call out “Puppy!” He squeals when I tickle him and respond “That’s not a puppy!” And the running Toy Story joke, omg. He is kind of exasperating switching from “Toy Story 1!” and “Toy Story 2!” and “Toy Story 3!” My dad (can you tell that they are very close?) started joking with him. “What about Toy Story…5?” Now Wylie thinks he’s so cute. “Toy Story… TEN!” “dublee do ba da Toy Story ELEBEN!” (that’s not a typo, he pronounces “eleven” like he has a cold or something, hehe.) Yeah, okay, maybe it’s only funny to the people who have heard his cute little toddler voice in person. But honestly, my son is freakin adorable.

                But what is escaping him right now is more abstract concepts, to him, such as “What city do you live in?” and “How old are you?” The city thing trips me out. We live in a city that has 2 nouns in its name. Nouns he knows. But in a new context, he won’t answer “What city do you live in?” even with a verbal model. You can tell on some level he isn’t really trying his hardest; he’s just not too interested, because he’s not really following what we are talking about. “What city do you live in?” means nothing to him. I’m kinda… uh. At a stand still. I don’t know how to go forward, other than to follow the advise of his therapists and continue to demand the answers from him.

                But hey! Remember when I was anxious about getting him into another semester of “pre-preschool” through his ABA school? Omg, he’s in. He started the new semester right after his 3^rd birthday. Oh, what heaven! I’m so happy, I know he’s in good hands. He LOVES the kids there. Omg and he’s eating quesadillas for lunch time. Okay, not health food or anything, but he’s never eating quesadillas before.  I’m so excited about the new semester. The director- the woman who made it all happen, the Generous One- stopped me in the hallway to gush. “He’s doing so well! We will need to talk about the next steps after this semester. LOVE that little guy of yours!”

                So this year is off to a good start. As he get older, I’m anxious about the decisions I have to make about the future. I think about blowing off state early intervention services and how there are new services now that he is 3. Pfft. And what about kindergarten, and first grade? Am I kind of assuming we will be fine by then? Do I have this vision that I will get to skip over all the fighting over IEP stuff others go through? That he can handle regular education without any supports and all will be A-OK? I don’t know! Is it just that I am procrastinating because I am intimidated? Argh. I can’t get my head around my own feelings yet. I sort of have this…disdain for any treatment goals and implementation strategies that I have to relinquish some control over. The idea of some a-hole I pay taxes to telling me what they can offer my son for support kinda rubs me the wrong way.

                Argh. Thoughts for another day.

Happy Holidays

Wylie has been off for his winter break, and we have been really just goofing around.

I completely forgot to register for my college courses for next year. Yuh. It just slipped my mind. I often just feel like I’m slipping in quicksand. No time for this; no time for that. I’ve NEVER failed to get into the holiday spirit like this, before. Everything has seemed like impossible work. Pssh.

Wylie is fine. Out of all the things on my mind right now, I’m not too worried about him right now. He’s a happy kid. He just brightens my day. And when he’s sad, it’s like the whole world comes crumbling down. He has this wail that is, like, kryptonite to me. But, boy, does my boy remind me of me! Intense, but not chronic. I get it. Short outbursts are something I’m familiar with.

We went shopping for Christmas presents the other day and he was a bit of a pain, but,  it’d be dishonest to say he was any worse than any other 2 year old at a crowded Walmart at 10 in the evening.  I loved it. It was a relief to be spared the dirty looks as I basically ignored his sobfests over some Cars action figures I made him leave behind. At one point, however, he spotted a baby and had a bit of a one-track mind after that. He kept calling out to this little girl, even after we had long passed the aisle she was in. “BABY! BABY! Baby, where are you?” Some couple passed me and I heard the dad whisper, “Oh, please don’t say baby one more time.” Haha, but we got him back good when, an hour or so later, we were in the checkout line together, and he overheard my husband say “And you want another one??” in response to them totally losing control of their two children. Honestly, we were both kinda rude, and both deserve to be forgiven. Tis the season, right??

A few days later, my hubby and I took him over to our in-laws to celebrate Christmas. Everybody was very impressed with Wylie. My mother in law just gushed about him, as he ran amok with his cousins, having a good ole time. He just laughed and laughed as he played. “He’s talking so much more!” “He’s such a happy kid!” “It’s like night and day!” they all said. Stereotypes aside, they have a point. A year ago at this event, Wylie was a total disaster. His little cousin enraged him by being too “in-your-face” for him to handle, and he hovered around the door waiting for someone to take him home. Wylie didn’t listen; he wasn’t able to handle the amount of people, or the attention he was getting; he was pretty miserable.

I know the school has made a world of difference. It’s like he has discovered how fun kids can be. Heh. He talks so much more, now. I’ll be shocked when he busts out with full sentences. “No, I don’t want to!” he shouts when I ask him to “come here”.  “I want bubbles, please! Yay, we’re doing bubbles!” There is still a lot of echolalia mixed with his jargon- “Oh, mmm, doogoo bada want to see the fish!” from American Tail. “The baby’s coming! The baby’s coming!” from Ice Age 3. “No, don’t bite! Mm mm!” from, I guess, whoever he tried to bite, hahaha! I’m so proud of him. And I am very happy with the direction he has taken with his ABA. When I began there, I wanted very strict, very formal one on one programs. When he started working with other children, I was not impressed at first. When he started his preschool, I worried about him losing the attention he needed to thrive. But learning how to cooperate with others has been such a good thing in his life. He has been so happy.

Wylie is fast approaching his 3^rd birthday. I think my family basically thought by this time he would be ready for regular ed, and pretty much fine, hahaha. Barely autistic or something. I really think at some time in the future I may have to find an occupational therapist, and we haven’t mastered a significant amount of his ABA programs… his language is still quite delayed. But, I’m gonna say this. Wylie’s a sneaky little thing, and I’m often surprised at what he knows. He has a good attitude. Frankly, he’s a chip off the old block. I may have, at one point, expected this to be easier than it actually is; but I think I’ve grown stronger than I thought I could be a year ago.

 Wishing everybody happiness.

Completed Semester! ...What now?

Once again, feeling a little unprepared.

                Arrrrgh. I don’t know. I was not made for morning shifts. No, I don’t feel like I have the rest of the day to get everything done. I feel like I get off work and it’s a few hours until I have to go back again.

                Particularly frustrating when I feel like I’ve missed the mark when it comes to communication with Wylie’s school. Oh dear. So I thought his pre-preschool semester ended when his whole ABA school took a winter break. Found out a day before it ended that I was wrong and it ended a week BEFORE the break. And I, true to my very nature, felt slapped in the face by my own procrastination. (Shit). Yeah. Okay. What now??

                To catch everybody up, Wylie just completed 3 months of a pre-preschool program, specifically designed for children who are ready to transition into a classroom setting. This doesn’t necessarily only encompass “high functioning” “aspies”—some children in the class are bound for straight up regular ed, and some children have just been doing the ABA thing for a while and it’s time for a chance to figure out some new accommodations. Wylie, I’ve been assured, is Super Advanced. Maybe not even autistic, haha.

                But Wylie isn’t exactly ready for school. He talks in jargon more than actual words. His self sufficiency skills are a little behind—potty training and getting dressed are skills we haven’t really tackled yet. He’s not a stickler for routine, but transitions are still likely to leave him unfocused.

                He has gained some important skills and experience during this semester of school. He’s 2 years old, and he’s doing a full 7 hour day at school. Um, amazing? I think so. And he LOVES it. He loves the other kids. His social skills aren’t perfect by any means, but his social interest is encouraging. And there is no doubt that he is at like kindergarten level academics now. The actual SCHOOL stuff is a piece of cake for him. As much as I know about autism (which, you know, is a lot, but I’m a mom and not an expert) I find it incredibly bizarre that language still escapes him. Yes, I admit it, it’s harder and harder for my feeble brain to wrap my head around uneven skill development. I get that it exists. I get that the brain has all these different pathways n stuff. But watching it in real life still makes my own brain hurt. Were ya thinkin about speaking any time soon, Baby???

                Anyway. The semester is over. The semester was granted to us. We cannot afford the 2^nd semester. No way. I was pretty resigned to max out my credit card for it—after all, how many semesters could he need?? He’s so smart, after all. But after a Family Discussion, I’ve been persuaded. I haven’t been strong armed, I’ve been thoroughly persuaded—maxing out credit cards is sort of a desperate act. We might find ourselves needing that safety net. And I would do anything for my child, but when you are poor and your child may need long term expensive services, you gotta sorta prioritize. I want him there SO BAD. Thinking about it just makes me cry. It’s almost an ideal situation. But I guess I can’t put all my eggs in one basket for “almost.”

                So I have a few options to pursue. I can awkwardly beg for more kindness and charity when I’ve already been blessed with so much. And let me tell you—I will. I don’t expect any. It’s too much to ask for. But it’s not for me so I have to ask. There are private preschools to look into. There is the public school system—he turns 3 soon, and technically I’m sure he still has an IEP from ECI 0-3. I’m not sure. A little apprehensive, tho.

Beg Your Pardon??

               Someone has been letting my son get away with some B.S. lately. Wylie’s language is, many experts tell me, “coming along just fine,” and I’m inclined to agree with the general consensus. The complex structure of sentences is eluding him, but he’s closing in, so to speak. He will string a few words together here and there, but I am most likely to hear a sentence in the form of a request, which is a program he is working on in school. He has been working on being polite, I guess, and “please” was added at the end of a standard “I want (blank)” recently. He was getting it perfect. “I want juice, please.” “I want Toy Story, please.” “I want upstairs, please.” Buahahaha. Gotta love the dog train method. Pretty darn polite 2 year old.

                Except, at some point, he started saying “I want juice, bee bee.” Or maybe “baby.” I want juice, baby”? Bee bee or baby. Hard to tell. But it’s WRONG! And I tell him. I model. He stops listening at some point and repeats his own mistake. Okay, okay. Totally unfair. He had an ear infection. As did his mommy. Did you know something? They aint kidding when they say that stuff can significantly impair your hearing. People gave up on me. “WHA?” every few minutes. Felt like my head was sandwiched between two conch shells. I could hear the ocean!! Ugh. So I suppose his hearing could be bothering him, he could just be off his game from being sick, I don’t know. My suspicion, tho, is some therapist is mishearing him and allowing him to get away with that.

                I don’t really know. My “super woman” routine is totally catching up to me. Yeah, I know, a little arrogant to even suggest my behavior could even remotely pass for a super woman routine, even if such routine was a farce. But I gotta say, I was riding a high for a while. Am I on solid ground? …Nah, but I’m young, and I’m getting there. Rocking the 2^nd year back in college, a new promotion complete with little minions to do my bidding, all while doing the whole “motherhood” thing. Not even your average motherhood thing, I was like thrown into Advanced Placement Motherhood and told to sink or swim, and I actually learned to swim. Then, I dunno, all it took was a couple bad weeks and a bout of strep to turn me from an Honor-Roll-Student to Ah-Shit-I’m-Barely-Passing and from Ms.-Up-and-Comer to Ms.-Hardly-Reliable. And as far as Mother-of-the-Year? Umm… Can you guess what the chances are of me claiming THAT title any time soon?

                I don’t have his damn notebook. It’s at school. I don’t know what little college student is letting him get away with “I want Cheetos, bee bee!” cuz I can’t see who keeps giving him 100% the day before someone else gives him a 0. And tonight sorta descended into some weird, twisted example of what would be a baaaad way to implement “No-no-show” as Wylie and I argued over every little thing he wanted tonight.

                “I want toy, bee bee.”

                “No. ‘I want toy, please.’”

                “I want toy, bee b—”

                “NO, ‘I want toy, please.’”

                (Sobs)

                “Well, Wylie—”

                (Louder sobs)

                “Shhh, hey. What do you want?”

                “I want toy, bee bee?”

                Ugh.

                So, tomorrow I have off. I’ll drop him off at school and probably come back home and wrap up some of my coursework; the semester ends, in, well. Uh. Soon. A few days? A few weeks? I’ll pick him up in the afternoon and hopefully I’ll see his lead therapist; either way I’ll get his notebook. I’m not too worried about it in the grand scheme of things, but I think it’s probably good to be a little proactive.

                I don’t know. In many ways, I worry less and less about him as time goes on. Yeah, I’m a mom, and I’m going to worry, but I have a lot of confidence in my son as I get to know him better and better as he grows up. And he’s just a little one, still. In other ways it is becoming clear I had some pretty high, possibly unrealistic expectations of where we would be a year from the beginning of  our journey. I’ve had to face the fact that any “sink or swim” tactics in regards to my child will probably not work out as well as I would wish. He still has a lot of growing to do in his pre-preschool—the idea of just throwing him into a regular old preschool and not disclosing his diagnosis kinda seems silly at this point. Not absurd—but a little silly. I was having lunch with my dad the other day, with Wylie, and we talked about potty training. It’s kind of funny to think of the judgmental me from 2 years ago, snorting at the idea of a 3 year old in diapers. I expressed to my dad that I still thought I’d try again with Wylie after the holiday season, right around his 3^rd birthday coming up. My dad—who is a “high expectations” kinda guy, but always rather reasonable about it—said, “I don’t know if he’s really ready. You could try.”

                “You don’t think so?? He catches on pretty quick, don’t you think? He’s a smart cookie.”

                “Yeah… but we’re still having communication issues, you know what I mean? He still has issues with his clothes. I don’t know if he’s ready. But yeah, I think you could try.”

                I knew what he meant. Wylie is still a little behind. Still think we can conquer potty training, tho! One day. Eventually. Shooting for next year. Sometime.

                All in all, things are okay over here. Life isn’t a rose garden, but then again, no one promised us one. (shrug)

Autism Community Collectivism Finally Made Me Snap

                I’m a libertarian. I don’t buy into the majority-minority us versus them paradigm. Like, at all. I don’t think words have as much power as actions and I’m not going to be joining any cause to ban the “R” word any time soon. I don’t think free speech should be curbed in any way, shape, or form. I think we should rely on charity over the government for financial help in an emergency.  These traits and beliefs I possess are essential to who I am. They also make for awkward conversations within the autism community.

                Like when Sam Harris made some kinda odd statements about how Objectionism is like Autism. And all the autists were offended by being compared to Objectionists. Well. Gee. Ayn Rand was definitely a flawed woman, but she changed my freaking life with her philosophies on free trade, self esteem, personal responsibility and personal achievement. So I was a little offended at everyone being offended by Sam’s comparison, although people were mostly right to assume he was using the word “autism” when he MEANT “narcissism” (I’m not really sure what a neuroscientist does or studies, since he seems a little clueless about neurological issues such as “autism” and “narcissism” but whatever…) I bit my tongue on that one, because my political philosophies were hardly the point when what we were talking about was respect (although maybe the narcissists, who are just as biologically preconditioned to be narcissistic as autists are preconditioned to be autistic, would also object to us having a hissy fit over the comparison. But that’s a little philosophical for here, I guess.)

                There was the time I got into an unintentional argument with an autist who publicly denounced a pretty benign post by a parent of autistic children when I asked  just what was so offensive about what she wrote. Instead of an explanation, I was told that “If I couldn’t see what was wrong with it, then I am probably part of the privileged group that is so confident of its utter superiority that it’s invisible to you when someone writes about adults with autism with contempt.” Someone quickly chimed in to explain that I was lacking common courtesy and decency by not treating those with autism as if they are in a protected class, and not treading lightly enough so as to avoid any hurt feelings. Hmm. Just… asking… a question… that’s all… treating everybody as an individual with equal footing is obviously not the goal of acceptance??

                Most recently, however, I got a lil riled up about some anti-treatment bullshit on the Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism. Listen. Come to me with some facts about why you hate ABA. Come to me with a reasonable anecdote. Tell me it’s your choice for your child, and you choose to stay away from the strongly structured, therapist-directed approach of ABA in favor for something else. For sure, I’ve read studies that pretty much suggest ANY intensive (several hours a day/several days a week) behaviorally based (conventional learning, Floortime, Early Start Denver Model) approach to teaching children with autism seems to have wonderful effects. Temple Grandin is right that it basically boils down to “The worst thing you can do is let your toddler veg out in front of the TV all day.” But when I hear criticism of empirically tested methods of ABA with absolutely no backing, expect me to speak out. And when the anti-treatment argument finally boils down to a clear misunderstanding of the role of a parent (and the role of a child) in the parent-child relationship, I think my rebuttal, inarticulate as it may be, is pretty relevant to the conversation. Parents ARE the boss of children. If adult children cannot function alone in society, sometimes parents will continue to be the boss of adult children. It’s not a human rights issue. It’s a biological issue.

                So, I guess I am a little unsure how to proceed from here. I’m getting bored with the walking-on-eggshells routine. I suppose I’m not popular enough to worry too much about losing my audience, heh.  I don’t mean to come off argumentative just because I’m outspoken, but (shrug) so be it. Much love to everyone—I have no hate in my heart. Always up for a debate and I am pretty open to new ideas, but I grow weary of those who want to scold me for having a different opinion.