So close...but yet so far

My husband and I don’t usually ever have a moment to sit back and observe our child play in public. We have to be active participants in playing with our son. We are the ones that jump with him, that bounce with him, and attempt to play catch with him. We are the ones that pull out all the tricks to engage him….Oh, what we won’t do to make sure this kid has fun.  We yearn for the smiles, the giggles, and the shrieks….all of which affirms his fun! 

Last night we took the boys to Pump It Up taking advantage of “sensory night” for children with autism and their families. This is one of our son’s favorite places to go. Jumping is his thing.  For the most part, he wanted his dad to jump with him and wrestle with him in the bounce house. Of course, I participated, but tonight, I had an amazing opportunity to be an onlooker, observing him play, observing when had he had enough? When did he want more? What activities was he drawn to, and which ones did he stay clear of?

Another boy with autism joined us all in the large bounce house. He had a few words, but they were quiet words and difficult to hear over the loud humming of the blowers and the loud voices of the children.  He was a smiley guy, and we knew he was having fun by the sign of his flapping hands. It appeared he enjoyed sitting in the middle of the inflatable while everyone around him jumped giving him the sensory input he was craving.

That is when I noticed it. It was interesting and peculiar, yet very intriguing. Was I really seeing what I truly in my heart wanted to believe I was seeing? Was he really doing it? Was my son trying to make a friend? My eyes didn’t leave him. I blocked out every sound and sight around me as I watched, and watched some more. 

I noticed my son’s laughter would increase as he would bounce right by this other boy. He would crash into the wall, stop, turn around, locate where the boy was again and then, full speed ahead, bounce right back by that boy as close as he could. This time, the boy reached out his hand as to try to “tag” him. My son shrieked in delight. After many times of this “game”, my son approached the boy very slowly. He came ever so close him, but not enough to touch him. He pointed to him and then looked at me, as if was saying,” Hey, mom, look at my new friend”. At that moment, I quickly prompted him to say” hi”, but he squealed and darted the other way. The boy continued to smile and flap his hands. The boy watched my son out of the corner of his eye. He made a move, but was stopped in his tracks by the voice of his caregiver who sternly stated, ”quiet hands, don’t hit.” The boy restrained himself and then left the bounce house.

My son quickly ran to the netting, scanning the room. Then in an instant, he was out of the bounce house, too. I quickly left to see where he was going. Breaking all the rules, both of them climbed the ladder to the slide and down they went. Neither one paying attention to the unsafe nature of them going down together, they were stunned when they crashed at the bottom of the slide. There was a moment of silence and motionless bodies. But the laughter returned and then they went their separate ways.  

I started off to chase my son, but stopped to listen as the other boy’s caregiver said,” I think he has found a friend. He doesn’t have any friends in his neighborhood because they are so mean to him.”

I couldn’t say a word. I just gave her the empathetic look of “I so understand.” This was a Dagger…a dagger to the heart, bringing me back to reality. My heart longs for the day that my son will have a friend.

But, no, I wasn’t going to let that bring me down, because this was reality too! My son does not have the words to talk or the skills to play productively, but yet tonight, he wanted to engage with another boy in his own way. He was trying to be social. He was engaging (without being prompted ), he had an interest…he wanted a friend.

He demonstrated social skills that were so close, but yet, ...so far.