The Christmas Gift...

Like many autistic children, my daughter is a wanderer.  She also doesn't have very good danger sense.  A flower, a balloon, an interesting tree might take her across a busy highway or down a ditch.  We are always on constant alert to keep her safe.

As such, she requires a 1-on-1 Para-Professional working with her when she's in school.  

Her current Para is truly remarkable.  She believes in my daughter and has that solid, yet kind, energy that my little girl really responds to.  In fact, over the past year that they have been together, my daughter has grown more confident, more secure and is definitely happier in school.  

Although I attribute much of my daughter's newly-found confidence to her indominable spirit, I also feel that the staff at the school, specifically her Para and SE Director, have contributed so much and with little fan-fare.  

I decided I would give her Para a gift.

Of course, we gave her a gift card, Barnes and Noble, but I wanted to do more.  Para-Professionals are the unsung heroes of our world and often go unnoticed and unappreciated.  Specifically by the other kids in the school who don't totally understand why she's in the classroom, other than that she's there for my daughter.

So, I wrote a story.

I wrote about a magical creature, in the Suessical style, who smells like cookies and cares for the lost.  Who wanders the land looking for those in need and finds ways to help.  The creature's name was the last name of my daughter's Para-Professional...

I read the story in my daughter's class yesterday morning.  Her Para didn't know I would be there or how famous she would soon become to the kids.  

I prefaced the story with the following:

"This story is a gift.  Not one that I would give, but one that was given to me and my family.  And we are so thankful that she is in our lives..."

The Redhead chimed in "It's a tribute to you!!!" and she pointed at her Para.  So much for the surprise...hehe.

As the words spilled out and the class leaned in, I glanced over to her to see if she approved.  I saw smiles and tears.  Happy tears.   Whew...

I read, and stood, and gestured, and whispered.  The kids all listened, occasionally glancing across the room at my teary inspiration, and never once interrupted.  They loved it.  I breathed another sigh of relief...could have gone completely wrong if they hated it or, worse, were bored.  They even applauded at the end, but they were looking at the Para and not me.  I applauded her, too.

She walked over and gave me a hug.

"Thank you" she said.

"No, thank you." I replied.  "Thank you so very much".

Other parents...

So, I was in line with my kids to see Santa the other day.  

In years past, my son would cry whenever placed on the Big Guy's lap, which would then cause my daughter to giggle uncontrollably.  Keep in mind, my son is NT and my daughter is autistic, so this was an unexpected outcome.  This happened 3 years in a row and we always got the shot...one side bawling and the other grinning.

This year, my son had mentally prepared himself for the indecency of a costume-wearing stranger's lap and was determined to gut through it.  He was a warrior ready for the challenge.

That was at the beginning of the line.  

The 2 1/2 hour line...

We started off fine.  My daughter fidgeting because she could see Santa and my son already showing signs of wear in his armor.

"Daddy," he whispered. "He looks like he might be the real Santa."  His eyes widening a little.

"I think you're right, buddy."  I said, kneeling down next to him.  "You ready to tell him what you're hoping for for Christmas?"

He nods. His eyes never leaving Jolly St. Nick. "Ummm...Minecraft Legos and Skylander Trap Team."  

"Ok, buddy.  Well, since he's so close, make sure you're good in line waiting for him, OK?"

"OK, Daddy."

2 1/2 hours...

Now, since this is an autism-centric page, I need to mention that my daughter was absolutely AWESOME the entire time.  Sure, she fidgeted and drifted ahead a bit at times, but she was focused, calm, patient and actively listening.  Even when she saw that they had 'snow' falling from the ceiling, she avoided the fake dandruff when asked only once.  

So proud.

Similarly, my son, although stressing about the visit, did great.  We had the foresight to bring the iPads and, at one point, he had a group of kids surrounding him while he played.  He let them take a turn and was friendly, patient, and giving.  He was serious about beinng on Santa's Good List.

It was all of the other children that amazed me.  

Kids were running freely, grabbing toys from other children, licking the TVs (yes, you read that right), hitting each other, wandering about the mall, screaming at everyone, grabbing, pulling, whining and tugging.  

Having been an autism parent for a while, I am extremely understanding of behavior situations and challenges.  I will often offer my assistance to those in need and am supremely non-judgmental.  I try not to throw stones...

That said, this was ridiculous.

At one point, when we got near the picture-taking area, two children ran ahead and got in the way of other people's pictures.  They had to re-shoot twice because of this.  The parents saw what was happening and went right back to their conversation.

My wife had a little girl come up to her and start playing with my daughter's iPad, which was on my wife's purse.  The girl couldn't have been more than 4 and her parents were 20 people back in line with no visibility.  They didn't even bother to check.  The girl was there for over 10 minutes.

One of the boys that was watching my son play on his iPad wanted to play Rock-Paper-Scissors. So, the boys got up and started playing.  This kid thought that being Rock meant that you get to aggressively hit the hands of those with Scissors.  After a couple of "Take it easy, boys." with no result, I told my son that he was done with the game.  The other boy said to me "Hey man, why don't you just let him play, huh?"  To which I replied "Well, I'm his Daddy and you don't get to make that decision.  I do. Understand?"

The parent was right there and did nothing.

Maybe because I raised a child with challenges or because I believe in awareness and responsibility of my own actions that I am more active in the raising of my children than most people I encounter.  But, these 'parents' provided a horrible example to their children.  I was angry, frustrated, and incredibly saddened by both their actions and inaction.

I can't understand this 'style'.  I worry for their child's future.  I worry even more that my child will have to deal with children like these again someday.  Children who don't know better...because their parents failed them.