Random conversations

Conversations are somewhat rare at our house. Not as rare as the proverbial hen’s tooth, I think of them more like rainbows: infrequent, unexpected and completely delightful. Because I am never quite sure when the next one will come, I always take the moment to stop and take notice.

Some conversations make me laugh. Sometimes I scratch my head, completely perplexed. I have learned it is best to follow the exchange and see where it takes us. I savor each as fleeting glimpses into Sam’s thought process and how he views the world. 

Here are some recent dialogs and my best interpretation. After you read this, tell me: What do you talk about at your house? 

Holidays and Yankee Swamps

Me: What did you do today?

Sam: Yankee Swamp.

Me: You went to a Yankee Swamp?

Sam: Yes.

Me: Was it wet?

Sam: No.

Me: What did you do at the Yankee Swamp?

Sam: Get presents.

Me: Did you get a present?

Sam: Yes.

Me: What was the present?

Sam: Barak Obama.

Me: You got Barak Obama? Really?

Sam. Yes. Really.

Me: Tony, open Sam’s backpack and make sure Barak Obama isn’t stuck in there.

Explanation. Sam has a hard time discriminating words sounding similar. To him “swap” sounds like “swamp” and “present” like “president, making for some very curious conversations. PS, for anyone worried, Barak Obama was not trapped in Sam’s backpack.

A trip to the hospital

Me: What happened today?

Sam: Felt sick. Tongue hurt.

Me: Then what happened?

Sam: Ride in the firehouse to see the dentist at a hospital.

Me: Then what?

Sam: Feel ok. Eat cheeseburger. Go home.

Me: That’s it?

Sam: Yes. Firehouse. Hospital. Home. Hug Mommy. Big hug.

What actually happened? It took me a few minutes to understand Sam’s version of the day’s events but he was actually pretty accurate. Sam had a seizure necessitating a trip to the hospital via ambulance. A fire truck accompanied the ambulance and Sam saw it (hence the ride in a Firehouse). At the hospital, a man in a white coat looked inside his mouth because Sam said his tongue hurt, explaining the dentist reference. He is completely correct about the cheeseburger. We stopped at the nearest burger joint for a refill before heading home.

School days

Sam: NO SCHOOL TODAY! Mommy, no school. School tomorrow.

Me: Sammy you are in luck. Today is a holiday so the is no school.

Sam: Holiday. No school.

Me: Do you know what holiday it is?

Sam: What?

Me: It is Martine Luther King Day.

Sam: Presents?

Me: Sam, no presents on Martin Luther King Day. You get presents for Christmas.

Sam: Presents, Mommy. Unwrap the presents. DVDs. Yes. DVDs.

Me: Do you want to learn about Martin Luther King?

Sam: No Martin Luther King. Presents, Mommy. Presents.

Moral of the story? All holidays should come with presents.

Insights from an artist

Me: Sam, what are you drawing?

Sam: Wood.

Me: (a little surprised) You are drawing wood?

Sam: Wood. Yes.

Me: The wood is pink?

Sam: Yes. Pink wood.

Me:  (pointing) Really. And what about that yellow?

Sam: Yellow wood. Pink wood. Drawing wood.

Me: Pink and yellow wood. Really?

Sam: Really.

No explanation needed. It is the artist’s prerogative to draw what he likes.

Future plans

Sam: Mommy! Waz the plan? The plan is, drive the car!

Me: Oh? Where are we going?

Sam: Nantucket.

Me:  What should we do on Nantucket?

Sam: Mommy! Watch TV. Watch On Demand.

Me: And?

Sam: Hug.

Me: Anything else?

Sam: Eat dessert at restaurant.

Me: What's for dessert?

Sam: Chocolate cake.

Me: Is that it?

Sam: Yes. Is a good plan.

Again, no explanation needed. Clearly he has given some thought his ideal plan and except for watching endless reruns via On Demand, it sounds pretty good to me.

Watch what you say while driving

On a recent icy winter night Sam and I were driving when someone cut me off. I swerved, narrowly missing the car. My adrenaline rushing, I yelled, though moments later I couldn’t remember what I said. Fortunately human tape recorder reminded me for the next 48 hours (with near perfect voice inflections) exactly what I said:

Sam: Mommy yelled: Cheezets Christ

Moral? If you are going to shout something out, be sure you aren't traveling with a human tape recorder or be prepared to be ratted out.

Bedtime conversations

Sam: Mommy! NO SCHOOL!

Me: Sammy…

Sam: Is nighttime. No school at nighttime. Mommy! NO CAMP!

Me: Sammy…

Sam: Is winter. Camp is summer. No camp in winter. Mommy! NO SLEEP!

Me: Sam, look out the window. What do you see?

Sam: See nighttime.

Me: What do you do at nighttime?

Sam: Go to sleep. Mommy! NO VAMPIRES.

ME: Sam, if you go to sleep I promise I won’t send you to live with vampires. OK?

Sam: Is OK.

OK, if you are looking for a little more of an explanation on this one, see: http://janetamorello.blogspot.com/2012/10/about-vampires.html

iPads and attitude

Me: Sam, you need to quiet down.

Sam: (Smirks) Ha, ha, ha.

Me: You need to quiet down and finish dinner.

Sam: (More smirks) Ha, ha, ha. Mommy you be quiet.

Me: (Upping the ante) Sam, you need to quiet down and eat your dinner or your iPad is going away.

Sam: (Bigger smirk) Mommy! No one ever said Sam’s iPad would be impossible to get.

I’d like to thank the TV show, Drake and Josh, for teaching Sam how to be a teenager. That pretty much explains it all.

It’s always Mom to the rescue

Sam: Mommy. I need help. I need help.

Me: What do you need help with?

Sam: Help with Sam. Help with arugula salad. Mommy. I need help.

Me: Sam, you need to learn these things. You know, I won’t be here forever.

Sam: (after a thoughtful pause) Mommy! We need more time!

Silly me.  I guess more time would be the obvious solution.

Motivation

Me: Ugh. I’m tired. I don’t want to go to work.

Sam: Yes. Work. You can do it Mommy! You need to go on!

Never mind he completely ripped this from an old Barney show. He has a future as a motivational speaker.

Best advice evah

After a rough day, I decided to take a walk and Sam came along. Once outside Sam turned to me and laid his arms on my shoulders and said, “Mommy. Take a deep breath. Deep breath.”

This is as good a piece of advice as I have ever gotten from a very unexpected source.  

My favorite

Sam: Mommy. Hug, big hug. Biggest hug in the world.

Me: Ok.

Sam: Mommy. No go. Stay.

Me: I’m staying. How long should I stay?

Sam: Forever and ever.

Me: OK. Why should I stay?

Sam: (After a considerable pause) Because. Stay. (Struggling for the answer)

     Because. Mommy stay because…

     I love you.

I stayed. Only a fool would argue with love.

The stress of the holidays

A hard topic for me; there have been few studies on challenging behaviors in children on the autism spectrum. While this is not a daily occurrence for us right now, it is a snapshot a more difficult night. Not all kids with autism exhibit aggressive behaviors.

I drive home from work, ready to begin the night’s project: baking Christmas cookies.

Sam hears my car pull into the garage and waits expectantly, that sound a signal of dinnertime. I make a quick meal and turn my attention to baking as Sam scrambles upstairs to play on the laptop.

The dough mixed, I begin the methodical process of rolling small brown balls. The phone rings, briefly halting my production. I lean the phone on my shoulder and resume my work, paying little notice as Tony arrives home.

Tony’s entrance sparks a flurry of activity. Sam suddenly reappears sensing an opportunity for snacks. Within seconds the kitchen is full of noise. As I try to wrap up the phone call Sam playfully tries to steal some chocolate chips. Ten times in as many minutes, I deny the request, each time more firmly.

Sam quickly erupts into an aggression, catching me off guard. It has been a few months since Sam has behaved this way.

I feel his both his hands swipe at my face from behind. They are not hard swipes, but they are fast, numerous and seemingly endless. Sam maintains a tiny measure of control as he hits, his purpose is attention seeking. He knocks the phone from my hand. “Sam, please stop!” I shout firmly. In a moment he stops.

Was it the commotion or the lack of attention? The stress or unpredictability of the holidays? Were the chocolate chips that important? Does he feel sick? Is it combination of everything? I wish he could tell me.

Though only 90 seconds have elapsed, I am very tired.  

I hear Sam say, “Sorry Mommy” followed by “Laptop?” knowing the consequence for bad behavior is loss of his precious laptop. I merely say, “Go upstairs now.”

“Sorry, Mommy. Is OK. Of course is OK. Sorry,” Sam repeats with urgency several times, adding in my usual response in hopes of reassurance. “A kiss on your head,” he says, wanting to erase what just happened. “A kiss on your cheeks.”

“Go to your room.” I say quietly. Sam complies.

Is it anyone’s fault? “Maybe if you weren’t on the phone” Tony says. It is a valid statement. I have always been more tuned into Sam's subtle clues. I see concern for everyone’s safety in Tony’s eyes and know the stress of the moment elicits the comment.

I head upstairs to Sam’s room to deliver the bad news: laptop privileges are revoked. He looks so very sad. He responds solemnly, “Hitting is bad.” Hoping to salvage laptop privileges, he quickly adds, “Sorry, Mommy. Is OK. Of course is OK. Sorry, Mommy. Is OK. Of course is OK.” 

It he truly sorry for his behavior or just sorry he can’t have his laptop? The hopeful side of me settles on a little of both.

Sam leans over to kiss my forehead. Both summing up and apologizing he says, “Hitting is bad. Feel better. A kiss on your forehead. No laptop.” 

"No laptop." I confirm.

The kitchen is quiet again and I finish rolling the cookies and bake them. I offer a freshly baked one to Tony. He deems it good. 

I head upstairs to tuck Sam to sleep. As he begins to drifts off I hear, "Sorry Mommy. Is OK. Of course is OK."

Of course it isn’t OK, but I take a small comfort knowing he understands, if just for the moment. We can build on that.


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I believe

The holiday season was fast approaching. I mentally organized what I hoped to accomplish that night: First, the Christmas cards to those who had worked with Sam in the past year, then package their gifts.

The cards were already selected: simple and white with a small Santa engraving – whimsically elegant with plenty of white space for Sam’s large scroll. The stock was both heavy and soft to the touch. I had chosen the cards envisioning the juxtaposition of elegance and Sam’s childish script.

I laid out the cards and like a drill sergeant directed Sam to sign them, “Love, Sam.” I was surprised by his unexpected protest.

“Want write. Want write,” he insisted. Translation: he disagreed.  I groaned and thought, he is going write “underwear” all over my beautiful cards. Sam had been obsessed with writing “underwear” for the last few weeks. I was certain today would be no different. More firmly I said, “Just write Love, Sam”.

Again he refused. Looking to compromise, I found a piece of blank paper and said “OK, Sam. Write whatever you want here and later we will sign the cards with just your name.”

Sam accepted this and picked up his pen. I watched in surprise as he slowly and carefully wrote:

Sam looked up and said firmly, “Want write believe.” Taken aback, I asked, “Believe what, Sammy?” He responded emphatically, “Believe.” BELIEVE!”

A little humbled, I thought: Believe in God; believe in Santa Claus; believe in Sam. Believe in miracles. Whatever it is you believe in, just believe. It was a perfect a message. Within the subtext was an important reminder: never assume because little is said there isn’t something worth listening to.  

Somehow this story is incomplete without a fast-forward to 4:45 AM the next morning when Sam greeted me with an evil and boisterous, “WAKE UP, TRASH!”

I truly hope that greeting had more to do with his pal Oscar the Grouch and less to do with his general opinion of me from the prior night.

I believe I’ll never know.

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