If you ask me ‘why does he do that?’, you cannot offend me. When you question, ‘if autism is not a disease, then what is it?’, I am not insulted. If you say, ‘My children are scared. How can I explain this to them?’ I will talk for as long as you will let me,… Read More
We met, nearly fifteen years ago, during teacher training. Every day, I walked from the train station to our placement school. Every day, a few minutes before I got to the gate, you would overtake me on your bike. As I walked, my thoughts were dominated by the moment when you would pass. I adjusted… Read More
My parenting may seem unusual to you. You might think I am indulgent. Maybe you think I display favouritism, that I am soft, that I have made a rod for my own back. You probably won’t understand my odd reactions to what seems like misbehaviour from my son. Every parent knows what it is like… Read More
My son said his first word at just over one. It was car. Others followed – by age two he spoke in sentences and followed instructions easily. He was behind physically. He rolled and crawled and walked late, but not enough to warrant concern. It was only later, only when the physical delays became more… Read More
My son is not a problem. He is not a health and safety risk, a difficulty to manage or an obstacle to overcome. He is not a disability. He is not a neurodevelopmental condition. He is a little boy who fears and loves, who laughs and cries. His behaviour is not challenging. To label it… Read More
Twenty years have passed – a brief eternity. At school, I turned my tie around and used the skinny side, because you did. I begged my mother for Kickers, because you wore them. The passions and pulses of our teenage hearts were similar then, though I would not have believed it; I thought you were… Read More
Last night, I slept soundly. I was not up late into the night, marking essays, setting three different types of targets. I did not toss and turn, fretting about the parent I should have phoned, the spreadsheets I should have filled in. I had no meetings to go over, no deadlines coming up. There are… Read More
My son is four years old. Fifty-three months. Two hundred and twelve weeks. Every six months, we attend a developmental review at his preschool. Every six months, we look at which Early Years Foundation Stage objectives he has met. Every six months, there are some that never change: 16 – 24 months Plays alongside others… Read More
Gorgeous boy – I hate it when your pain is deep, unfathomable, unreachable. Today you cried for thirty minutes because there was something wrong with your food. An unexpected shape or colour – you were too distraught to say – but it was wrong and there was no way to fix it. I hate it… Read More
Watching my son around other children can be difficult. Yes, his differences, his autism, stand out clearly – but there’s more to it than that. At his nursery, I have come to pick him up. Two little girls are on the floor at my feet, playing with toy horses. “Amelia, Amelia, we can make them… Read More
Dearest little one, I have just finished making a phone call, something for your brother. I was chasing an appointment, some support for him – I forget which – one of dozens of phone calls I make every month. My mind is on him, as it often is. I emptied the bricks onto the floor… Read More
In the words of Bilbo Baggins, it’s a dangerous business, going out your door. If you have a child with autism, leaving the house can take on the epic highs and lows of a trip to Mordor. When we began to appreciate Biggest’s difficulty with routine and rigidity, when we knew that it was something… Read More