Seeing the funny side

Flashback; 2010.  Something in the expression on my friend’s face changes so I stop talking and turn to follow her gaze.  Why is everyone in the soft play centre looking over towards the ball pool in utter horror?  And then I see what they see. Er, yes, that is my 4 year old daughter.  Singing at the top of her voice about the Numbertaker’s number sucker-upper.  Whilst wielding a long stick.  Which belongs to the daddy in the ball pool, who is actually blind, and totally unaware that my daughter has claimed his white cane as her own. It’s classic laugh or cry. 

I laugh. I can’t help it. Having a child with Autism has brought out the giggler in me. 

The open-mouthed shock of the other parents in the play den just adds fuel to the giggle-flames.  I know what they are all thinking; something along the lines of OMG I’m so glad it’s not my child who stole and then shamelessly waved around a blind man’s walking aid.  But there’s a certain guilty pleasure in being an onlooker when somebody else’s child is misbehaving, so much the better if the child is mercilessly embarrassing their parents in public!  It’s a deliciously naughty cocktail: part relief that the little monkey is someone else’s problem; part self-satisfaction, (your own child is an angel, of course…well today anyway!) and a generous schlop of curiosity – how on earth will she deal with this?  Mum is shaken and the child is all stirred up…this is fun!  We sit back, take a sip and watch the drama unfold.  We enjoy it.  Because we know that next time it will be our turn to be embarrassed, our child breaking the rules and our moment in the dreaded spotlight of shame.

The trouble with toddlers and kids of all ages on the Autism Spectrum, is that they are unreservedly self-centred, (the word Autism comes from the Greek word autos, meaning self), which means that they do whatever they want to do, without considering the feelings of anyone else.  In fact, most autistic children are totally incapable of imagining how anyone else but themselves might feel, even if they were interested- which they’re not!  This is why my Boo thinks it is perfectly OK to go and sit at another family’s table in a café and take what she fancies from their plates (oh ground, please swallow me up now!) We are lucky that Boo has very good language and communication skills, (some children with ASD have no speech whatsoever), and of course we have explained to her that she shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to her.  But she simply doesn’t give a monkey’s- the compulsion to do what she wants is far stronger than the knowledge that she isn’t supposed to do it!

Tempting though it is to pretend I don’t know her sometimes, I usually find that honesty is the best policy in these situations!  When I explain that Boo has ASD, people are perfectly fine that half their lunch is missing, and most of the time they find the incident rather funny.  This kind of thing happens to us all the time, and after the initial shock at the audacity of the child, laughter usually follows, mine and theirs!

Another of our family’s favourite Boo-isms, was on holiday in Whitby, when she was three.  Caught in a sudden downpour, we boarded an open top tour bus (don’t ask!) to the abbey, and were surprised when, as we were struggling to fold up the pushchair, the voice over the guide’s megaphone sounded just a little bit too familiar… ‘Upsy Daisy!  Upsy Daaaiiisy!!!’  She had the entire bus pretty much rolling in the aisles that day!  Honestly, give the girl a captive audience and there’s no stopping her!

In the same way that we laugh when a toddler removes every last item of clothing and brazenly performs naked tipple-overs on the lawn, there is something inherently joyful in the nature of our children to behave utterly inappropriately. Maybe it reminds us of how we ourselves might be, without all our grown up responsibilities and inhibitions; imagine having the freedom to act on our every whim with pure unadulterated abandon!  I often think that having ASD must be like living life permanently on this wavelength. 

Boo’s antics are often embarrassing, but delightfully funny too.  She makes me laugh and others smile.  It is her gift to us and I am grateful every day for the joy and laughter she brings.  Oh, and when the roofer came recently and Boo greeted him with, ‘Hello, annoying man’, she made his day, too!