Autism is funny

Autism is a funny little thing.

In my world it is funny in the way that I don’t ever really need to own a clock or even look at clock.  I know that my girl will eat, make dessert, take meds, get dressed, and crawl out of the cave (basement) on the 30 minute mark.  That is when episodes of Animal Plant typically change.

In the morning the alarm sounds from below and she has a routine.  This routine involves absolutely no talking to her, or rather she does no responding.  She eats.  She takes meds.  She then dresses.  Mess with the order and mess with her.  That is funny.

When she wants something she looks at me.  With beautiful eyes that are begging for me to just give her what she wants.. (she does talk, but prefers the stare down) One might think that just blurting out what you want would be easier than 100 hundred guesses, but I do not have autism, so what do I know anyway?

She will wrap my arms around her head but will not hug me.  I consider it a quasi-hug but would never tell her that or she would stop.  That is not so funny, but it is what it is.

When she is unsure what my mood is, she emerges from the cave and peeks around the door.  She looks.  If I am knitting with a merlot at my side, that is usually a great sign and she enters.  If I am at my computer she will usually stare me down until I talk and then she either returns to the cave or comes to me.

She brings me her coloring books.  She opens the page and says nothing.  I usually comment on the coloring skills and tell her that she is doing great.  I beg for her to let me color one.  If it is a good day, then she returns with her enormous box of lovingly worn down crayolas.  She says not a word but just opens the book and slides me the crayons.  I have tried to play ignorant and say “oh nice box of crayons” hoping for an invite to join her, but instead I get , “Mooooommmmmmmmm”.  Funny she knows what a prompt for initiation is.


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