S wants
to run away today. He had a bad day at school. He screamed in class because he
lost a math game. So I told him he couldn’t go with his brother to see some
baby rabbits I had promised we’d visit tonight.
“I’m
running away!” S tearfully yells as we come in the door. “O.K., go ahead,” I
say calmly. (Moms are supposed to be calm at all times). He runs into his room
and starts packing.
While
he packs, I wonder, how the heck am I supposed to handle this? I could call his
bluff by letting him go, but he might actually keep on walking. (That’s the thing
about autistic kids: they never bluff. Or at least mine don't.) I could try and reason with him, but I
don't want to appear weak and back down from my decision.
He
walks out of his room with his backpack on and his toy rifle sticking out from
it. I see it's stuffed full and he is starting to put his shoes on.
“I’m
not a part of this family any more!”
“So,
where are you going to live?”
“I’ll
live outside up in the tree!”
“But
who will take care of you?”
“I can
take care of myself, I’m big now!” (Maybe I should stop telling him he’s a big
boy.)
“I’ll
miss you.” I say with a serious face.
“Especially when we go camping for summer vacation and make s’mores over a
fire.”
That
starts to change his determined look. “I’ll miss my family too,” S says, and
starts crying. I know he is looking for a way to wiggle back into our family
camping trip.
“I bet
Daddy and N will miss you too.” By now he is slumped on the sofa. Half crying
and half excited about camping. “Do you want to calm down and join our family
again?”
“Yes,”
S says, and starts a fresh round of crying. I know he wants to end this episode
with dignity, and not seem like a baby who changes his mind easily.
“Why
don’t you go into Mommy’s room and calm down?”
“O.K.” In my room he talks about really wanting to
see the bunnies and how he couldn’t control himself because he hates losing. I
go through the familiar spiel for frustrations:
It’s/just/a/game./Sometimes/you/win/sometimes/you/lose./Mommy/and/Daddy/lose/and/we/don’t/cry./What/do/you/think/the/other/kids/and/teacher/are/thinking/when/you/are/screaming?/Let’s/try/better/next/time.
“Will
you take pictures of the bunnies for me?” S pleads. “And don’t tell Daddy what
happened.”
The
next day before school, he empties out his backpack on the sofa so he can take
it to school. He kinda looks at me, but doesn’t say anything.
I see
what he packed: several of his favorite Beyblade tops, some Bakugans, a bead
bracelet he made that spelled his name, all three robot Hex bugs, a couple of
his drawings, his toy rifle, and his jacket. All his worldly treasures.
I am
both annoyed and happy. Annoyed that most of the toys are commercialized
playthings that he wanted because he saw them on T.V. But also happy because they are still toys
and things that he made or drew that he was proud of. He is still a child completely content with
his playthings. I am happy because he is
still a little boy who was still willing to return home to join his
family.
