The Only Predictable Thing About Life with Someone on the Spectrum Is That It Is Completely Unpredictable.
- True adage about Autism that is unfortunately way too long to put on a t-shirt therefore I won't be making any money on it.
We have had a nice block of rain these past four days. I don't mind rain during the work week as I am at work (although I do get a bit cheesed off when it rains all weekend and then Monday is gorgeous. It's sort of like God giving us the cosmic finger.) I do, however, get a little freaked out when it rains on the weekend as it means lots of indoor time with the children or as I like to call it a "forced hostage situation" with my husband and I being the hostages. Friday night I already started mulling over what to do with the children on the weekend - knife throwing lessons (too boring), French lessons (neither one of them is fluent in English yet, let's get that under our belt first), clog dancing (unfortunately no place close by offers it). Finally I hit it - the mall. But with a twist. The mall has one of those "paint overly priced not very artistically designed" plaster paint places. I have taken my daughter before and she enjoyed it. The R.A. does like to pick up the old paint brush and paint himself (hands and face) but also has been known to paint the designated item (and then go back to his version of a self portrait.) I thought the plaster paint place would be a good idea as both kids would enjoy it. It's not always easy finding something that both kids like. For some reason they have very divergent tastes in amusements. My daughter is into arts and crafts, My Little Pony, and eating junk food. The R.A. is into Thomas, toe walking, and not sleeping.
Feeling very proud of myself I conveyed my idea to my husband. He didn't think it sucked so off we went.
Once in the mall parking lot, we followed protocol and my husband removed the ancient stroller from the trunk. The R.A. knows we are a pair of clueless boobs so supervised us closely to make sure we did in fact pull the stroller out. Only then did he exit the vehicle and plop himself into the stroller.
I admit I was looking forward to our outing and anticipated a good time for the family. Now, I'm not completely naive and expected that there would be some glitches. Of course as I based my idea to go to the plaster paint place on neurotypical logic, I totally miscalculated the situation. Yay me!
Upon entering the store the R.A. first looked confused then panicked then pissed. As my husband noted, the R.A. was no doubt thinking, "This is not proper mall procedure! Where the hell are we?" He wouldn't get out of the stroller. We tried to jolly him along, "Look! Painting! Fun!" With gritted teeth and our usual dimwitted determination we soldiered on (no, we never learn to retreat.) My husband wrestled him out of the stroller and handed him a paintbrush and guided him to paint a Batman decoration. The R.A. cried the entire time as he slapped paint on his decoration, using extremely angry strokes. It wasn't so much painting as punishing the decoration. I'm sure he was picturing our faces receiving the paintbrush's lashes. After about a minute and a half the R.A. tossed the paintbrush and declared, "All done!" He then crawled back into his stroller and attempted to buckle himself in, refusing to look at anyone or anything in the shop. The R.A. also attempted to leave the shop by rocking the stroller back and forth making it move about half a centimeter. Boy was crazed. And that was only for the base coat. We still had to put on the actual paint. But you know us - Never give in! Never surrender! The R.A. and my husband went for a stroll in the mall while the base coat was drying. My husband and I reasoned (incorrectly) that this was a new place and the R.A. needed time to get used to it. By the time they returned, the R.A. would settle down and have a swell time painting. At this point if the R.A. chose to paint himself and not the decoration that would be okay with us. Heck, if the R.A. chose to paint one of us and not the decoration that would be okay with us.
The minute the stroller crossed back into the shop's threshold, the R.A. started chinning and keening. So far not so good. Undeterred by his obvious abhorrence to the shop, we continued on - our obvious lack of intelligence made up for by our obnoxious tenacity. After wrangling him out of the stroller, the R.A.'s second foray into painting primarily consisted of getting paint on his hands and the stroller and not much on the Batman decoration. He dodged and weaved his way back into the stroller, again doing his best to buckle himself in, yelling the entire time. I'm not fluent in "R.A.-Speak" but I'm fairly confident he was yowling, "What in the Kitchen God's name is wrong with you people? You are not following protocol. You drag me to Kitchen God knows where to do Kitchen God knows what. And then you have the temerity to say it's fun. FUN? Seriously? I have paint all over my hands and I didn't even mean to put it there! We are leaving NOW!"
During all this high drama my daughter was quietly and contentedly painting away on her own unicorn piece. It's not that she doesn't care about her brother. It's just that if she allowed every R.A. crisis to interrupt her endeavors she'd spend her entire life unfinished - unfinished meals, unfinished television shows, unfinished unicorns, etc. She's just trying to live her life despite the drama.
My husband and I finally, yet grudgingly, admit defeat. He stays with my daughter so that she can finish her unicorn and so that he can finish Batman. I take the R.A. for a walk in the mall - he in his stroller, of course.
The R.A. was so wound up he was stimming his hands to beat the band. We walked for a bit and then stopped and sat and watched the passing freak show. This the R.A. quite liked.
After I deemed enough time had passed for my husband and daughter to have finished their creations, we headed back to the plaster shop. As the stroller pulled up outside the plaster shop, the R.A. started whining. Luckily dad and daughter had just completed their projects and we were able to hustle out of the store. I have a feeling the R.A. is traumatized by the plaster shop experience and we are going to have to restrict ourselves to the opposite side of the mall. Thank the Kitchen God the plaster place isn't close to any mall stores we regularly frequent.
We needed to leave the items at the store for 30 minutes to dry so we decided to hit the food court and have lunch. The R.A. enjoys the food court and we hoped it would calm him down. Unfortunately, by now the R.A. is completely wigged out and spends lunch ranting. My husband and I, fearing we are living on borrowed lunch time, shove our food into our mouths, barely chewing. Another spectacularly enjoyable dining experience.
In a last ditch attempt to placate the R.A. we rolled to the candy store. Peace at last! Finally contented, the R.A. slumps, relaxed, in his stroller sucking a "yawyee posh." Kitchen God bless those sweet confections!
We did have to return to the dreaded plaster shop to pick up the decorations. This time the R.A. and I stay outside the shop of horrors while my husband and daughter fetch their items. I park the R.A. next to a clear plastic wall where he can watch people coming up the escalator which he digs, conveying his interest by flicking the wall and rocking in his seat. He was probably thinking it was the best part of his day. Thankfully nobody on the escalator was carrying any plaster decorations.
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