He's Just a Little Boy

April is Autism Awareness Month, but the “awareness” aspect tends to get under the skin of many parents so I think we’ve all relabeled it Autism ACTION Month. It’s fitting that I get to tell this story in the month of April. A story I always knew would be told…just not so soon.

In the past couple of months, I’ve found myself wondering if we should talk to Larkin about autism. She’s always known (I think even before us) that something was different with Kellen and has always explained it to others as “Kellen doesn’t talk” or mid-meltdown she’ll say “He’s having a hard time”. I brought up this topic with my co-workers during lunch one day and received mixed opinions. “She’s too young.”, “What about the stigma associated with the word?”, “Will she really understand?”, mixed with “It’s worth a try.”, “If she already sees the difference, then it might be good to put a name on it.” In the end my thought was that I wanted her to know “the word”, I wanted to take away the negative power of that word and instead give her the positive power to use it. If a barely 5-year old can use it without flinching, then it’s a lesson to all of us. I talked to Patrick and he agreed that we should talk to her about it, but the opportunity presented itself but a few days later (late last month).

We were dropping Kellen off at school, and he was having a particularly rough morning. Larkin asked what was wrong with him…I gave my usual response…”He’s having a hard day”…and then she said “But why does he have hard days?” And so there was my opening. I went for it. I reminded her of his bad days, of the fact that he doesn’t talk, of his need for structure and routine, of cars lined up, and I told her. I said it was called “autism”. She repeated it. “Autism”. I told her that he wasn’t sick, but that “autism” was what the doctors called it. She said, “Well that’s not that bad, it’s not like my rashes and me being allergic to metal, it’s not that big a deal”. And so my dear girl put it all in perspective, autism played a serious second fiddle to contact dermatitis caused by a cobalt allergy. Autism was “no big deal” to her. I remind myself of this constantly.

Over the course of the past few months, I’ve seen her become even more protective of him (and in turn have seen him bond to her in a new way, which deserves a separate post). In rare group outings, she protects his line-ups, takes his cars back from curious toddlers, speaks for him on a regular basis. When April 2^nd rolled around, I told her we were all wearing blue to support Kellen and other kids with autism. She told everyone she knew. She remembers the word, she uses it without fear, without any negative connotation, without pity. She has power over that word. Which is interesting, because in the brief story I’m about to tell, the word becomes irrelevant.

I was sick yesterday, miserable respiratory plague that probably wouldn’t have gotten so bad if I knew how to slow down. Patrick volunteered to pick both kids up so I didn’t have to move. So he had Kellen when he picked up Larkin at preschool. We avoid this situation as much as possible because walking Kellen into a group of neurotypical, loud, messy, over-stimulated 4-5 year olds surrounded by mountains of toys is a recipe for a meltdown…which was in fact the case yesterday. Patrick was helping Larkin gather her things because Monday is dance day, so there are always extra “things” on Mondays. He put Kellen down and only a second later realized that there were boys at the table playing with Legos…lots and lots of Legos. Kellen dashed and stole one of the boys’ creations. The boy tried to get it back from Kellen…and I have to laugh a little thinking how there was only one way that fight was gonna go. Patrick quickly intervened and told the little boy he would get it back for him. So Patrick takes the Legos from Kellen, and Kellen melts down. Kicking, yelling, the type of tantrum that requires a full-body swoop-up and carriage of this squirming angry body to the car.

Well Kellen is just as big as these boys (if not bigger). The “difference” is more obvious these days.

So these boys pointed at him…

So these boys laughed at him…

And Larkin was not going to have it.

She marched up to them and as Patrick recounts “got all feisty and in their faces” and she stood up for him.

“Stop laughing at him, he’s just a little boy.”

He’s just a little boy. Not a boy with autism, not a boy with some sort of deficiency, not a boy with a disability, a handicap, not less….just a little boy.

Patrick says she stomped off but felt the need to turn around one more time as they rounded the corner to look them in the eyes, point and say “Stop it!”

I’d say I was surprised, but I’m not. To hear Patrick’s pride and see his smile when he recounted our barely 5-year old’s encounter, well, it was awesome. When they walked in the door, he said they had a “Larkin report” from school. Unfortunately, as of late, these reports have generally included not listening at naptime, not listening during lessons, not listening during well any other time of the day LOL! She told me the story, too. I went over, germs and all, and gave her a huge hug and a kiss, looked her in the eyes and told her how very proud I was of her.

Because I am. Like wear a T-shirt that says "My daughter is freaking awesome" proud. Yes you can have as many cookies as you want proud.

Because we should all be that little feisty 5-year old who will take on little boys that laugh at our brothers. Because we should get over the need to label every little thing that’s “wrong” with us. Because in every way that I feel like I fail on a daily basis…here, in that instant, I must have done something right.

The siblings will help to change this world. They will hold the power to help not only their brothers and sisters with autism, but help all of us be more inclusive, more loving, more open.

So in this month of Autism Awareness/Action, my daughter is my role model…Larkin is Kellen’s hero. I hope the world is ready for that dynamic duo...because they're smart enough, big enough, strong enough, and feisty enough to change it all.