Progress

Last night was the teenager's Christmas/Winter/Holiday band concert.  She wasn't going to be performing because she is recovering from pneumonia and she's not yet cleared for clarinet, but she wanted to go see her band BFFs perform.  At the last minute her brother decided he wanted to come, too. I was surprised because he usually just wants to hang out at home and play with his Legos.

When my son was younger, I was used to fleeing public events.  It's an autism parenting tradition. You compare notes with other parents- We had to leave a movie halfway through! We left the baseball game in the first inning! We got told to leave church!  Now, many "autism friendly" events exist, but when my son was a young child they weren't as common.  When I did take him somewhere, and the odd behaviors manifested themselves, I could feel the glares on my neck like a heat lamp. I'd feel the need to apologize profusely, and then run for the hills- although once, at a hockey game, I explained the situation and the fans behind us said hey, we just thought he was really into the hockey fights! (the Mom of No does appreciate a good hockey fight- as do her offspring).

After awhile, I just got tired of explaining and apologizing. As he got older, I learned how to help him adjust to different situations. I had read a book about Anne Boleyn, whose motto for a time was "let them grumble; that's how it's going to be" (this was way before she got her head cut off).  That became my parenting philosophy.  So you think my kid acts a little weird? Oh well, stare all you want. He's taller than me and he walks around with Lego toys and when he's ready to go, talking is closed, and that is who he is.

So last night we went to the band concert, my son with his favorite Lego "fidget" toy, and I went through the whole routine of reminders- you need to sit, be quiet, don't drop the Legos on the floor, there are thirteen songs, we'll leave when it's done.  The first band came out, played their first song, and when it was over, he clapped enthusiastically.

The teenager looked over at him cynically.  She's familiar with his method of operation.

Teenager: Do you really like this music? (sounding doubtful)
Son: Yes! It's awesome!
Teenager: Which band did you like the best?
Son: I like the second band!
Teenager: You're just trying to butter up Mom because it's almost Christmas.
Son: Yes! I'm doing that too!

If I had seen this scene in a crystal ball when he was 5, I would not have believed it. But here he was, sitting quietly (except to ask how many songs were left), enjoying the music, and applauding at the appropriate times for the  performers.  Even though he did ask about twelve times where the concession stand was (no concessions), it was a little Christmas miracle.  I was so proud.