Cecily Paterson

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Autism. A beautiful conversation

I have been seeing some wonderful things from my boy this week.

Here are some examples.

We had some real give and take conversation in the car on the way to see his homeopath.

This morning at his sister's netball game, he was interested in what was going on, and wanted to know how long they played for, what the initials on their shirts meant, what happened if one team won and why they played in teams. I told him it was rude when he laughed at the opposing team missing their shot, and he understood that too. 

He also had a fantastic time playing with his younger cousin at his grandma's place this afternoon, and he's expressed some lovely feelings about his friends at school.

What was very precious, though, was our conversation just this evening. He had been in bed for about 15 minutes, and Max had already gone to sleep. I heard a, 'Mu-um' from his room and went in to see what was wrong.

"I'm scared," he said. "I'm scared of the dark. There are ghost lights," and he pointed to the light in the hallway. 

I told him that God was bigger than the darkness and he was in charge, and Campbell didn't need to be scared because God loved him.

"I'm just a quiet boy," he said, snuggling down after I prayed with him. "I'm a nervous boy too."

"How does your body feel when you get nervous?" I asked.

"Just all scaredy," he said. "I'm nervous a lot. I'm nervous at school a lot."

"Oh, really? What makes you nervous at school?" I asked.

"Like, when J kicks the sand in the sandpit at the girls," he offered. "Because they came on to our area."

"Hmmm," I said. "I wonder what you could do next time that happens."

"Maybe... I could... take a break?" he said thoughtfully.

It's so lovely when he can look at himself and analyse what's going on. He's absolutely right - he is a nervous boy, although the nerves often come out in aggressive and loud ways. It was delightful for me to see him identify his fear and then sort out a possible solution.