OK, I have to say it: There are things about Brandon being autistic that I absolutely adore.
Yes, I know that Brandon is not separate from his autism, and that without it, he's simply not Brandon. There are certain traits though that, at least to my eyes, are at least in part attributable to the fact that he is autistic. One in particular, that, as the mom of two growing kids, I cherish, and that is, for lack of better phrasing, his continued innocence. Maybe it's a delay in maturity; maybe it's an outgrowth of being wired not to conform to "typical" society and therefore not being in such a hurry to grow up. Whatever it is, I love it.
What does it look like, this hard to define trait? It looks like picking TV shows such as "Octonauts" as favorites, or deciding that it's OK to watch Baby Einstein DVD's again because they have animals and music that he likes. It looks like doing a happy, waddling, tap-type dance so he can look like his "Happy Feet Two" friends whenever you mention penguins lately. It's not caring that "My Personal Penguin", a Sandra Boynton board book is his favorite bedtime story, complete with fingers in mouth and best furry friend Roscoe the raccoon "reading" it to him. It's still liking to go to Sesame Place, even though he is 9 & 1/2. It's wanting children's museums, where he can still touch and play with everything. It's still searching for my hand when crossing the street, even though I have tried to transition to a more age appropriate arm around his shoulders or light hand on his back. It's getting to keep my little boy for just a bit longer than I should have had him, and I love every precious second of it.
I do question how much is genetics and how much is autism, by the way. After all, at age 40, I also still like Sesame Place, think there's no such thing as too many stuffed animals, and heartily share the view that Disney is, in fact, the happiest place on earth. One of my better exchanges with my husband happened on a Disney cruise, when picking out photos that had been taken by the cruise photographer. I had my picks in my hand, and he wondered why I hadn't chosen a different, better photo:
Me: "Because this way we have one with Mickey and one with Minnie."
Danny: "Sure, never mind the humans in the photo. We've got Mickey and Minnie." (Insert *that* look. You know, the one where your spouse makes very clear they think you need to get a grip.)
I think the salesperson may still be laughing. Also, my husband heartily disagrees about the stuffed animals.
Regardless, there's change in the air this year. We started seeing it in the classroom. I've felt him drop my hand as soon as we cross the street. And then, this exchange a couple of weeks ago:
Brandon and I used to have a "thing" at bedtime when he was younger. I would kiss him, pull back, and ask, "More kisses?" He would shake his head yes, and I would keep kissing his face, and maybe his belly. He was good for three, sometimes four rounds before I stopped. We haven't done that in a while. I kissed him, and looked up.
Me: "Brandon, enough kisses?"
Brandon: "Yes."
Me: "Remember when you used to ask for more kisses?"
Brandon: "Well, I'm getting older now."
Man, did that hurt. He's used that phrase several times since then. Yes, Brandon, you are getting older now. You are headed for your first double digit birthday this year. It's a double edged sword. You are showing us maturity in ways that were frustratingly out of reach and very much longed for only a year ago. And yet, and yet....
There I some things, sweet Boo, that I hope you never outgrow. I hope you never compromise yourself, never try so hard to grow up and fit in that you forget the things that make you happy. I hope you always love something as passionately as you love your penguins now. I hope you always have something that makes you as comfortable and secure as Roscoe and "My Personal Penguin" do at bedtime. I hope you'll always see the world with at least a little bit of childlike wonder. I hope you will keep on being happily autistic, and that someday you will find your way to a community that honors that.
And yes, I know that you could care less about Mickey and Minnie. Someday, a photo with Shamu. Definitely.
