My autistic son has a lot to say. But what he’s saying and what he means is still often a mystery. I’ve decided to record his words while I sit at the computer for a rest between chores. It will be helpful for me to see how far he’s (hopefully) come in a few months time from now.
Oh, and having read back through what follows, I now suspect my son is distantly related to Yoda. Plus, I’m thinking he loves clocks.
(For the purposes of this conversation my 5 year-old is called “Joe” and my 1 year-old is called “Bob”.)
Joe: “Zero is taller, getting taller, ding dong, it is, clocks in the blue table.”
Me: “No because otherwise Bob will get them.”
Joe: “Bob get them… Yes. Long time away. It is… Tall, clocks alarm, taller, taller… Joe can’t reach that wall” (points at ceiling).
Me: “That’s right, that’s the ceiling.”
Joe: “That is the ceiling, can’t reach the wall ceiling, that’s too high!”
Me: “That’s right.”
Joe: “Mummy push the button, daddy push the button, people push the button. Mummy push the button. (He doesn’t like the dishwasher lights being on). Yes, it’s far away, it’s finished singing, mummy push the button.”
Me: “I did sweety.”
Joe (having checked on my claim): “It is off, light is off. Daddy’s watch off, mummy’s watch off” (he tries to collect our wrist-watches, which is annoying).
Dad: “No, you’ve got your own watches.”
Joe: “Yes daddy, yes daddy.”
Dad: “That’s right.”
Joe: “Oooh, turn, open, room, room, that’s not room, your watch. Toshiba. Office, office, office, fire, very fire, fire, fire office, office, that is a different office, office, office, spelling, spelling, spelling, oops! That’s not right. (Lots of happy humming interspersed between these musings). Fire, outside, home, that is fire, house, clock. (Let me reassure you at this stage, there is no fire). Ooh house. Click. Hands. Back. Going. It is. Dial. Another. Alarm, easy, dial, turn. Six. Twelve. Bong, bonging, bonging, bonging, bonging, bonging, a while, bonging, big hand, is tick tick tock... Office, office” (steals spoon from Bob, who is not impressed with this turn of events).
Me: “Give that back to your brother!”
Son #1: “Clever, clever, mummy mummy, yes mummy, mummy is happy, daddy is happy, yes daddy, yes daddy.” (the “yes mummy, mummy is happy” is something he does to reassure himself that things are OK, usually when he’s been told off). Tissue, tissue!”
Dad (supplying a tissue for a sniffly nose): “Yes.”
Joe: “Do you want rubbish, rubbish, rubbish” (he reverses his pronouns most of the time, he means “I want you to put that in the rubbish”)… Red, red hiding, white, very white. Jam. Was… (notices his father has gone outside to bowl a tennis ball).. Daddy’s naughty.”
Me: “No he’s not.”
Joe: “Daddy is outside.”
Me: “Yes he is.”
Joe: “Daddy’s throwing a ball outside!”
Me: “Yes, that’s good talking!”
Joe: “Daddy is good, daddy is doing throwing good!”
And yes, he is. I’ll go hang out with the kids now that my husband is evidently outside doing throwing good. 😀