Discussing Autism

No, I cannot tell a lie.

I want a normal child.

Yes, its true.

I want a normal child, a “real” boy.

I want one who speaks sentences, who can tell me what he wants for dinner, that he does not like his shoes, and that he wants to go to Grandma’s because he wants to play with the trains - not just that he wants to “go car”.

I want a child who can take a bath without screaming, who will tell me not to touch the back of his neck, and who can tell me why he grinds his teeth all day or head butts me while he sits on the couch.

I want a child who runs like a 4-year-old is supposed to, who is not afraid of the swing when is not wearing his glasses, and who will stop before crossing the street.

I want a child who doesn’t still eat baby food, who can pour his own glass of milk, and who can cut his own food or use a fork.

I want a child who sleeps through the night (and sleeps in until 7 a.m.).

I want a child who will play on the soccer team, play tee-ball and Little League, and who will play kickball in the neighborhood.

I want a child who will share, be gentle, smile, laugh, and ask questions.

I want a child who is patient.

I want a child who tells lies.

I want a child who has friends.

I want a child who will date, have a girlfriend, go to the prom, get married, and have children of his own.

I want a child who will fight with his brother, verbally.

I want a child who will stop trying to physically fight me and talk to me.

I want a child who will learn to drive the car and then break curfew.

I want a child who will make the honor roll.

I want a child who can play in the sand at the splash park and answer “what is your name?” to the younger child who asks him.

I want a child who can stop when he is told to stop.

I want a child who is not afraid to love.

No, I cannot tell a lie.

At one time or another everyone of us grieves for our children and the lives they lose and the lives we lose. However, we have to learn to embrace the children they are. I call this grieving the Pinocchio Syndrome. I went through a tough time of it a little over a year ago when we were first coming to terms with Little Pickel’s delays and possible diagnosis. Unfortunately there was no one there to help me get through it all (except my wonderful husband).

Although we all MUST grieve in order to move on, we all must come back to the place wherein we must help our children. Just like Disney’s portrayal of Geppetto, we must be calming and steadfast guides.

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