Autism is a jackass disorder.

My nephew Roo got a diagnosis a few months ago.  It’s a confusing diagnosis, so let’s just say he is on the autism spectrum.  There are developmental delays, so he’s not just Aspberger’s.  But he’s also not fully autistic.

 

And that’s really all I have to say about that. 

 

I am sick to death of people trying to put him in a box, or converse about him when they don’t even know him.  Because my brother is not terribly communicative to people he doesn’t see in person regularly, it has fallen on me to explain Roo to all of our extended family.  And because I only see Roo two or three times a year…and even then, only for a day or two…I don’t have much to say. 

But Goddammit, I have some things I NEED to say.

Does he have some odd behaviors?  Sure.

Does he have a hard time with socialization?  Absolutely.

Does he have some sensory issues?  Yes, but precious few.

Is it in any way unusual that it takes him a day or two to warm up to me? ABSOFUCKINLUTELY NOT.

He and I had an epic wrestling match.  It was so much fun.  He pushed me into a wall, he pulled me back off of it.  I tumbled over him, and he started tugging on my ankles, trying to flip me over the way we always flip him around.  I flipped myself over, asked him what he was going to do now that he had me upside down…and he sat on me while I lost my breath laughing.  Little moments like this are amazing in this long-distance aunt’s life.

But more importantly…THIS IS HOW CHILDREN PLAY.

A little over a year ago, it took me nearly a week to crack the kid, and that only really happened once we had a whole day together, when food and naps were totally my responsibility.  As far as I’m concerned, bonds aren’t formed just through play – bonds are formed when you provide CARE for a child.  Changing messy diapers, trying to feed them with refrigerator leftovers as they doze off in the high chair when it’s well past naptime…putting them down for a nap as they scream because they are still hungry…putting them back in the high chair and feeding them more until they pass the fuck out and you finally get that shower.

When that kid woke up two hours later, we had a bond.  We had been to hell and back together, and all we had was each other for a brief moment.

Shortly after that visit, he said my name for the first time.

A couple of months later…I stopped him from eating rocks with no protestations.

But I understand that every time I see him, it’s a little bit of Groundhog Day.  He is still very little, and a few months is a significant portion of his lifetime.

So at Christmas, when he paid me very little mind, I was not offended.  I mean, GRANDMA was there.  And she gives him any and everything he wants.  And she gives more fun presents than I do.  And they have a special thing going.  I had my moment when we opened his present…I brought his puppet to life, and had him captivated for a precious few minutes.  He also loved his little brother’s present…which I made.  Double nephlet win.

The diagnosis came about a month later.  And ever since then, these little vignettes take on a different meaning…for everyone but me.

A simple wrestling match, that most people would think is perfectly normal for a less-than-3-year-old…becomes “SO AMAZING.”

The fact that I managed to distract him as he was running around, hold out my arms, and have him run into them for a hug?

Not noteworthy without a diagnosis.

With a diagnosis?  “Oh my God, that must have been so amazing!”

As a matter of fact, yes, it was amazing.  Because this kid only sees me 2-3 times each year, and it only took him 24 hours or so to respond to and trust that obvious visual cue.  It actually has very little to do with his disability….IT HAS TO DO WITH THE FACT THAT HE IS NOT EVEN THREE YEARS OLD!

Practical upshot: people who are focused on this fucking diagnosis (hey, I’m a poet and don’t know it!) are depriving me of the normal joys of aunthood.

STOP IT.

Let me have my normal developmental moments.  Give me an “Aww!” instead of a “That’s amazing!  That’s so hard to get from kids like that!”

It’s actually not.  You just have to stop treating these beautiful individuals like they have a disease. Just because someone does something differently than you…that doesn’t mean that they are damaged.

You don’t know what this kid will do someday, and you for damn sure know less than I do about what he will do.

Stop it.

Stop mourning future expectations that none of us ever had any right to place on him.  Not everyone has to go to college to be successful.  Not everyone has to play sports to be cool.  And not every kid with autism is condemned to a life without those things.

Be happy for me.

Be happy for him.

Be happy for the glorious family my brother and sister-in-law have created.

STOP WITH THE FUCKING PITY ALREADY.

You are killing my aunt-buzz, and that’s not cool.