My children have a friend who does not play with them.
He comes over with his brother and sister or we go to his house but he doesn’t say much, not to us anyway.
He breezes passed and heads for the toys, grabs one he had his eye on the moment he walked in, and begins lapping the living room.
The kids play together, rocking babies and playing dress up and fashioning pretend meals for us moms but this little guy lays low, or under the table, or behind the chair.
My kids want him to play, we all do, but he just can’t.
We are too loud for him, too unfamiliar, too unpredictable. Maybe our house is too bright or the smells from the kitchen too strong? I’m not sure, he never says.
He paces the floor, telling stories to himself and every once in a while stops at his mom.
He nears her and time and adult conversation stop as she grasps onto whatever piece of him he is willing to give and waits for more.
He is 1 in 100. He and his mom are myself and my daughter, 12 years of autism ago and it is odd to be on the other side.
I don’t know why but it continues to amaze me that autism just keeps on happening, happening so much more than it did fifteen years ago when my daughter was born. What in the world is going on and when is it going to slow down?
I wish I knew.
This little guy is just as amazing and unique and special as every child I have met with autism
but he deserves to play
just like every child I have met without it.
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