Today George
(almost 7) went to a friend’s birthday party. It was bowling, which
he was excited about, because he’d never been before. But of course
because he’d never been before it was also a troublesome thing for
him, in a typically aspie way. He behaved with perfect Georgeness,
but with gentleness and understanding we avoided a meltdown.
 |
| 'Bowling Shoes' by John Walker, on Flickr. |
On coming in
through the door he was excited of course, but when his friend’s
mum said hello to him he instantly collapsed onto the floor and
rolled under the pool table and out the other side. In his cat-like
way he acted as if that was the perfectly proper way to get across
the room.
The first real
problem came with the bowling shoes. I tried to take it in a gentle
way, warning him he would have to change his shoes and taking him to
show him what the shoes would be like. We’ve had plenty of
experience with the trouble of shoe changes with him when taking him
to buy new shoes. It’s a change, and worse still, a change under
pressure. While all the other boys were excitedly taking their shoes
off and handing them over the counter, George was crouching in the
corner hiding his feet under his body. He didn’t want to do it, he
didn’t see the need for different shoes, he didn’t want shoes
with laces.
I noticed some of
the shoes had velcro straps, and luckily they had some in his size.
But this still meant getting his shoes off him. We managed this after
a little time, but he didn’t want to put the bowling shoes on. He
tried, but they felt wrong, and the two velcro straps were joined
together instead of separate. He kept asking me sporadically through
the party why the straps had to be joined together. Because I
explained to the lady behind the counter that he had autism she
was patient and although she shouldn’t let him in without shoes she
was flexible enough to let him go in carrying them.
 |
| 'The Eyes Have It' by Vagawl on Flickr (cropped to a square.) |
The bowling
alleys were a difficult place too. It was noisy, bright,
overwhelming. The balls smashing into the floor, the sound of the
pins being knocked down and picked up again, talking and music and
excited children bouncing about like electrons in an atom. It was a
lot to take in. So he hid behind the seat back and then sat in a
corner for a while and someone else took his first turn. His friend’s
mum was patient and understanding and tried gently to bring him out
of his shell, explaining to her son when he asked why George was
hiding that he was just a bit shy.
Then he began to
engage. ‘Mummy, maybe when I’m not shy I can have a go,’ he
said. When he decided it was time to have a go, he did really well.
He engrossed himself in lining up the balls in order as they came out
of the machine, putting one on each side. (I was more bothered by the
odd blue ball than he was. All the rest were light orange or dark
orange and could be lined up nicely.) The holes went on top and
presented him with a shocked face.
 |
| 'Bowling Ball' by Jonathan Keelty, on Flickr. |
After a few goes
he even decided that he wanted his shoes on. They stayed on for about
two minutes, and then suddenly it all became overwhelming again. He
didn’t like the taste of his drink. He lay under the bench. The
shoes came off. He was ‘bored’ of bowling and wanted to go now.
He had to walk away and watch through a glass screen for a while.
Then after his self-imposed break he slowly sidled back, and finished
the game.
Later he managed
the chaos of McDonald’s with grace, and as we walked back into town
he had fun trying to spot lines of three cars of the same colour in a
row, a game of his own devising.
I was proud of
him today. Together we managed things so that he didn’t find things
too overwhelming and he didn’t have a meltdown. He was eased gently
in and when he needed time he went off and took it. Instead of
breaking down and spoiling things for everyone, we got through and he
had a good time. What really gladdened me though was that everyone
around him was also patient and understanding. No one decided he was
rude or disruptive (or if they did they kept it to themselves.) They
accepted that he does things in his own way. That’s just the way
George is.
