My baby stole the cake at someone else’s birthday party

The 14 year old ‘baby’. Thought it would be funny to sneak away the cake and pretend to eat it all by herself. Her 11 year old brother was outraged at her breach of party etiquette. Screamed a sonic boom to stop time; chased her down; pummelled her; cried. That’s how we were discovered by the first arriving wave of pink taffeta-wrapped six year old princess guests. The three of us locked with mutual submission restraints on the front lawn. Two out of three crying; two out of three shouting.

The party before that we were the guests. The same five minutes of utter madness at the start. This time the 14 year old went into the host’s garden and pelted her brother painfully with tennis balls. Her 11 year old brother was outraged at her breach of party etiquette. Screamed a sonic boom to stop time; chased her down; pummelled her; cried.

The party before that she didn’t go. Apparently she ‘always spoils everything anyway’. The thing is though, she doesn’t. Once settled, she’s fine, they’re fine. Help with the younger children, generally stay out of the way, make a fair effort at ‘manners’. The damage is often done, however, in that first 5 minutes. They’re on show to people who don’t know them well, and they show wild and anti-social behaviour.

We need a better script to start parties. My research resources linked below. I’ll report back how we progress.

Websites with party tips appropriate for ASD teenagers

Emily Post

Lifehacker

Our words to communicate fear and courage

“Nana’s not going to be coming any more. Not for a long while. She needs special medicine which will make her ill. She can’t travel. ”

He stood there and nodded rhythmically. Tell-tale frozen face. I know it to mean that in his head the cogs are spinning. Translating to understand what he has actually been told. Processing onwards to work out what his reaction is supposed to be. Scanning the input for meaningful ‘trigger words’; searching the memory banks for examples of ‘expected behaviour’ in this situation.

She waved goodbye, wiped away a tear and was gone. He turned 180 degrees and went upstairs. Lay on his bed. Cried wordlessly for two hours.

When he spoke, he repeated the last words she’d said to him. Repeated and repeated and repeated. For hours. The words were meant as a reassurance; a tenet for courage; telling him to not be afraid. In my son’s mouth, every repetition was nuanced different. Stress the first word; stress the middle syllable of the last word; add a pause before the last word. Every possible reading of those words. Each inflexion with a slightly altered meaning. I knew this, because on the second round of this he added comments to himself. Which version said ‘do not be afraid’ which version said ‘be afraid’. Trying to capture every drop. Parsing out the codex from these verbal glyphs for how he should be to support his grandmother.