Unique, quirky, infuriating, lovable

There are many words I can use to describe my eldest child.  Like any 5 year old he's a combination of cheerful and cranky.  Amazing and irritating.  Inquisitive and pestering. 

He's also autistic.

I find myself in a tough position.  Anyone who know anything about autism knows that there's no 'base model'.  Every single kid with autism is an entirely unique creation.  Some kids talk, some don't.  Some kids rock, flap, scream, drool, hit, bite and repeat behaviours for hours on end.  Some kids don't seem to have anything noticeably wrong with them.  They're all autistic.

Charley is called 'high functioning'.  You might meet him and never know there was anything different about him.  He's clumsy and likes to play alone, but is also talkative and engaging.  He attends regular school and is reading ahead of his age group.

He has many struggles, especially socially.  He doesn't know how to deal with his peers.  He doesn't understand emotions, nuance, sarcasm or turn of phrase.  (Try saying 'ants in your pants' to an autistic kid!)  Saying something like "don't do that, it hurts mommy's feelings" is completely wasted breath.  He can't always process what people are saying to him quickly enough and reacts in a fight or flight way more often than I would like (he either pushes/shoves/bites/screams or runs and hides in a quiet space).

He is lucky (and therefore, I am lucky) because he is able to function at such a high level.  I've met kids and read of others who are much more severely affected.  I don't pretend to understand their battles.

The challenge with Charley is that because he's so functional, because he's so close to being 'normal', it can be a tricky thing to make people understand.  He can seem naughty, undisciplined and just plain bratty to outsiders.  He's a handful at school.  He can makes me go almost crazy on an outing to the grocery store.  He understand rules and reasoning, he just can't always make his body behave.  I could tell him 100 times not to touch things on the shelf and he would do it again.  I have told him a million times to share his trains, but he can't quite make himself do it.

I'm afraid the blog has suffered of late because he's had a rough patch.  I've been picking him up early from school this week because, as he told me, 'he's overwhelmed'.  I try and work out what triggers a bad day, what makes him go from happy to miserable in 5 seconds, but I can't always unlock the mystery.  That brain...I even begin to understand how it works.  How can he remember the words to every book I've ever read to him and yet not remember that walking out onto the road is dangerous?

I went to a school assembly this morning to watch the kindergarteners sing a song.  Charley was happy enough until he noticed me sitting across from him.  Then he just wanted to come over and sit with me.   His teachers (they have 2 in full-time kindergarten) are absolute gems.  His main teacher is in her 31st year, and I try not to think that Charley was the straw that broke the camel's back, because she's retiring this year.  We'll miss her so much.  His EA is an amazing woman with a great knowledge of special needs.  They are the reason he's had success this year.  They are the reason I can drop him off and not worry (too much) about him.

So when he decided that if he just rolled, oh so subtly, across the gym floor in my direction, they just laughed and scooped him up.  Teachers are heros.  And teachers who get kids like mine are doubly so.  We're all just chugging along, trying to figure out how he works, what makes him happy and how to make this whole school-thing a success.


I love my kid.  Look at these photos and tell me he's not a sweetheart.  A quirky, infuriating sweetheart.

 His usual spot, at the teacher's knee.

 Can you see why we're lucky?  You see those looks of love?  Those are dedicated teachers.

 The subtle, roll escape technique.

Foiled!