A Tiny Ocean

Sundown in South Florida.

Playground at the Unitarian Church.

Sand, wooden play set, plastic

Yellow slide.

An unfurled plastic hose drug across

the sand, and two perfect, small humans

Filling a watering can, pouring, filling.

Their limbs slender and tan, graceful.

My boy and her girl, working together,

Practicing for something encoded in

their bones. Talking innocence so

pure and magical, that no adult ear

could decipher the true meaning -

just the diction, the dry grammar, the

syntax. But the swirling and electric

connection, the funnel to the beyond,

was theirs and theirs alone.

His hand, her hand, both on the

handle of the green, plastic watering can.

Pouring water into sand, forming a tiny ocean,

and me raising a finger to wipe it dry.

I get jokes - and so does he

I have heard that some Aspergians don't have senses of humor.

I think this claim is greatly exaggerated.  At least in many cases.

I suspect most if not all Aspergians have a sense of humor.  But it's likely to be very dry, and very... well... quirky.

This, for me, is an absolute dream sent down from Heaven.

I have always loved absurdist, dry humor.  Monty Python, Michael Showalter, Steve Martin.  Their brands of humor always have gotten me deep.  Of course, I'm also a huge fan of Benny Hill and flat-out idiots like the Cable Guy.  I'm a comedy omnivore - with the exception of Carrot Top.  How ironic is that?

Anyway.

NJ's new thing is to come strutting into the living room with his pants hiked way up and ask: "Dad?  Are my paaaants tooo hiiigh?"  That's the whole joke.

It is hilariously ridiculous - and I laugh every single time.

He has a whole line of jokes, from dry, acerbic witticisms to classic knock-knock.

Tonight he told this joke: Why did Patrick refurbish his house in solid gold?  Because his teacher told him he needed to do a lot of homework!

Not funny - unless it's being delivered by a six-year-old Aspergian who himself thinks it's funny.

Today I was expressing how irritated I was with the fact that NJ had been complaining since I picked him up from school.  He lets me prattle on for a minute, then sits silently.  Then he goes: "You say I'm complaining.  But who's doing all the complaining now?  Huh-huh-HUUUUH?"

Now that's some funny stuff, and against my better judgement - I couldn't help laughing.

My point is, your Aspie almost certainly has a sense of humor.  Perhaps its a bit buried, or a bit quirky, or just very, very dry.  But I bet it's there.

And I certainly think it's worth looking for.

Peace.

Keeping to my word

I preach to NJ all the time: Effort is all we care about.  You try hard, and leave the outcome up to the universe.

You cannot control the outcome - only the input.

So.

What does he do but go and win his very first marbles match this weekend.  The first one he played in.  And he won it at the Pack 308 Cub Scouts Fall Classic Tournament here in Palm Beach County.

What a hoot.

He began by winning the lag, which you do to determine who goes first.  Like the lag in pool, you have to shoot the ball and see who gets closest to the line.  NJ got closest. 

So he went first.  And he gets two marbles with his first shot, and he gets his shooter back.

From there, he did really well.  And his attitude was great.  And he played by the rules.

When he won, we wanted to jump for joy.  We wanted to scream.  

But all we did was walk up to him, give him a hug and tell him he made a great effort.  We did make sure he knew that he had won the match, but that was all.  The rest was hot dogs, conversations and meeting a few new friends.

Consider the challenges Aspergians face when it comes to such things:

- Taking turns

- Fine motor skills

- Understanding instructions

- Concentration and staying on task

- Operating in crowds (there were dozens of kids in the gym)

And consider that an Aspergian won his match on Saturday.

It was, to my mind, something to write home about.  

The other great thing was how the Scout leaders treated the situation.  Although they had established a rule that parents must stay behind a line well away from the competitors, the organizers allowed me to occasionally jump in and help when NJ needed a gentle push in the right direction.

Frankly, I didn't really need to do much at all.  I basically stood about 20 feet away and watched as he participated and did a wonderful job all by himself.

At one point, the chief organizer, Dennis, came over and quietly but firmly told me it was okay to stay with him if I wanted.

I thanked him.  And I kept my place, well away from the action.

That was NJ's business.  And I am proud to report that he gave his best effort.

I'm also happy to report that the outcome was good, too.  

Peace.

Relaxation time...

This weekend, we took NJ to the Florida Keys for some R&R.

It was well deserved, and apparently, needed.

But 'twas not all a bed of roses.  At least, not at first.

After a very long drive, we got to the hotel and decided to take a walk.  We were looking for the house of Shel Silverstein, the great writer of children's books and poems.  As we walked along, NJ started complaining.  He wanted to do this, he wanted to do that.  Why did we have to walk around when he wanted to do something else, etc.

Well, I stopped him in his tracks.  I told him not to talk back.  And I sat him down for a three-minute timeout. 

He started yapping during the timeout, and I threatened to add another three minutes.

He finally shut up. 

And after that, I must say, the rest of the weekend was a dream.

It was nice to be traveling with family, including NJ's mother, my nephew and sister, and brother in law.

And just hanging out around the pool and watching him with family was a tremendous treat.  I found it very soothing.  My sister Rose, who's about 13 years older than me, has given me some of my greatest childhood memories.

One night when I was five, I kept waking her up and asking for orange juice.  I must have asked her three or four times.  She kept getting it for me.  I couldn't believe it.  She was always very good at coming into MY world when I was a kid, and trying to understand what I was going through.

Well, this weekend, she gave me the treat of watching her do the same thing... but with NJ.

She's so good at entering the kid's world and not patronizing him.  In the process, she somehow manages to maintain her adult status, but she truly just has a neat way of connecting with kids that I think says something about the depth of her character, wisdom and curiosity about the world.

NJ clearly ate up every minute of it.  

And it wasn't just that she bought him the $10 pirate soap that I refused to buy him!

It was her asking him questions about volcanoes, and watching him build sand castles for two hours, and talking to him about TV shows, and boats, and pirates and fish.  NJ's Uncle Al and cousin Tim also took him under wing at various times.

And I was just very grateful to have him around family.  People that accept him for exactly who he is, right now.  Not after years of therapy.  Not after he becomes "normal." 

Not because of his great intellect, or some accomplishment or other.

But just because he's their cousin, their nephew, their family... their loved one.

I think that pure, total acceptance must underly every interaction I have with NJ.  Even when I'm correcting him, or punishing him with the dreaded time-out... I must know, with absolute certainty, that it all comes from a loving place, a place of total acceptance of who he is.

Kids can tell.  And Aspergian kids can really tell, I am convinced, perhaps more than NTs.

So always knowing where I'm coming from is of utmost importance.

Another interesting lesson from the weekend...

This one also had to do with acceptance.  But in this case, it was NOT accepting something that led to positive results.

Basically, don't accept it when a kid doesn't try something.

I can accept that NJ might not be able to do something.

But I won't accept him not trying, not giving effort.  

We try to praise effort, and accept outcomes.  

I think that's a good mantra.

In this case, NJ didn't want to try riding on the tandem bike.  He was having a hard time getting up on it, and he kept feeling like he was going to fall off every time the thing jostled to one side or the other.  

He tried getting down and telling me he couldn't do it.  

But I knew damn well he could.

"NJ, get back on there and put your feet on the pedals.  Just keep your feet on the pedals.  You can pedal if you want to, but you don't have to."

He would get back on, and kinda perch there for a moment.  Then try to hop off.  At one point, he got back on for a moment, and I just started riding away, down the street toward Duval. 

His mother tailed us, making sure he didn't do a face-plant or anything.

But after about five seconds, he realized that he COULD do it.  In fact, he started having a ball!  He was pedaling, talking, observing and enjoying the ride through Key West like the old salty dog he is. 

We never drove the car the whole weekend.

The little Aspergian boy who "couldn't" ride the bicycle proved otherwise. 

I praised his effort - not his success. 

And while his success didn't surprise me, it seemed to surprise him.

And I suspect it won't be the first time.

Peace.

The value of never giving up

I will be honest, and tell on myself.

There have been times when I've wondered if putting NJ in various social situations was even worth it. We tried T-ball, and that didn't go very well. Of course that was before we had a diagnosis, and before NJ turned 4!

We've asked him if he wants to try soccer. No go.

He used to balk at the idea of a play date (no more).

But thank goodness we never gave up. We have just continued to gently ask if he would be interested in trying various things. And we've accepted when he flat out says no.

So we were delighted two weeks ago when he came home from 1st grade with a flier for Cub Scouts!

He was not only interested - he had taken the initiative.

So we went to the first couple of preliminary meetings. And he sat there and did very well for most of it. But what was awesome was when he leaned back into me, and whispered during one of the presentations:

"Dad, I think Cub Scouts is really exciting."

I whispered back that I agreed, that I could wait to do this with him.

He whispered back a few more things that made me want to rip my own head off with joy, and go bowling with it. And I actually got teary-eyed.

This happens occasionally, and almost always when I see him making - or even attempting to make - a real social connection, with an individual, group, it doesn't matter.

As an added bonus, his friend Darren (also on the spectrum, very mildly) wound up in NJ's Den through some shameless vote-rigging. His friend Ravi also wound up in his group, as did another friendly acquaintance named Tyler.

Who knows where these guys are headed, how long their friendship will last. I recently got "friended" by an old buddy I met at Wilson Elementary School in California, oh, about 30 years ago. Of course I wouldn't have dreamed we would remain friends our whole lives. I didn't even know what a whole life meant back then.

But thanks to NJ's new foray into the Scouts, I am wondering if he might wind up with a lifelong chum after all.

Never give up. Never settle for isolation. Just keep trying to put your kid into situations where he can succeed. It will happen. It will.

Peace.