But before we get all smug and full of self congratulations over this aquatic victory, there is, of course, because it involves the R.A., a catch. The catch is, that despite his affinity for bath water and recreational "swimming" water, he despises the rain and the snow. The R.A. abhors it so much that when caught in a surprise rain shower he has been known to clamber up his father while shouting, "No, please! No, please!" Any attempts to get the R.A. to play outside in the snow, especially while it is snowing, have been unsuccessful. The last time I tried he spread himself out across the side door frame, gripping one side with each hand and bracing himself with each foot while roaring the obligatory, "No, please! No, please!" I had the added bonus of our mail carrier witnessing me detaching the R.A. from the door frame. P.S. There really isn't a convincing way to explain that one away.
Why this passionate dislike of precipitation? Maybe it was the hours he spent working on getting his hair to look just right. It isn't easy getting those 27 cowlicks to stand up at gravity defying angles only to be threatened by rain drops or snow flakes. Let me also say that the R.A. doesn't so much have a head of hair as a ranch for wild cowlicks. (Not to be outdone, his sister's head is more of a halfway house for not only wayward cowlicks but delinquent snarls.)
The week of Halloween I found myself anxiously watching various weather reports. As the day approached, meteorologists gleefully reported that yes, there would be rain but not to worry as it would be to the north and west of Boston. So per usual, when it comes to the local news, places other than Boston (we live north of the city) did not count. As my father used to say, "So what are we, dog sh#*?"
I spent most of Halloween day at work in a panic. My husband was unable to get Halloween off from work. (Or so he says. I'm convinced he never put in for the time off preferring to go to work rather than trick or treat with the family. Mind you, I'm not judging. I'm just jealous that I didn't think of it first.) That meant that I was on my own for this dreaded mission. And, boy, did I dread it.
Originally the R.A. was supposed to be Superman for Halloween. At his school's annual Halloween party we discovered that the Man of Steel was allergic to his costume. The R.A. is really more the Man of Tin Foil.
While I dressed/wrangled the R.A. into his backup Thomas the Tank Engine costume, he was already conveying his preference not to go out. I attempted to chat up how great trick or treating was but he was having none of it as evidenced by his rigorous "No, please!" and insistence on "Bye, bye car, now!"
Once I finally got the R.A. out of the house he made a break for it and ran to my car while hollering, "Bye, bye, car! Bye, bye, car!" He clung desperately to my car's bumper and I tried to jimmy him free. While we tussled the R.A. kept screaming, "Bye, bye, car!" while I responded with a sing songy, "Trick or treating is fun! Let's gooooo!" We were probably the most frightening thing most families saw as they hurried past our house.
I finally managed to pry him off the bumper and we walked/shuffled/dragged ourselves down the street just as the soft drizzle turned into a full on downpour. The R.A. howled in frustration and rage. My hands were literally full - I had a vice grip on the R.A. and was also holding his Halloween candy bag, an umbrella, my daughter's waterlogged witch's hat and bribery Dum Dums which had been spurned. The pair of us looked like we were doing a Quasimodo inspired two step down the road. My daughter walked ahead of us, her only contact an irritated, "Seriously? This is so embarrassing!"
Despite the weather and despite the R.A.'s marked lack of enthusiasm I resolved that we were going to trick or trick, come hell or high water. "Let's go! Move it! Move it!" I barked at my daughter. "Go on ahead! Hurry! Hurry! I've got him! Don't look back! Go! Go! Go!" By the fourth house I realized that Eisenhower probably approached the Invasion of Normandy with more whimsy than I was giving to the trick or treat mission. That immediately put the entire thing in perspective for me.
I realized that my determination stemmed from the desire that my daughter got to trick or treat. When you have an Autism Family, a lot of your life is dominated by the Autism. It controls what you do, when you do it, where you do it, how you do it, why you do it, and sadly why you don't do it. No plans are permanent and all are subject to change. It is a tough way to live and the biggest casualties of this lifestyle are the siblings. My daughter has gotten to the point that whenever we have plans she is fretful that they will fall through. When I walked in the door from work on Halloween night she was already in her costume but her first words to me were, "It's raining. Will we still get to go trick or treating?"
I resent adults telling kids who live in these situations crummy platitudes like you don't always get what you want in life and this is a learning experience. Or - this is it so accept it. That sucks. Grownups who say that are grownups who don't think kids have a right not only to voice their feelings but to have feelings. Those grownups are often too lazy to find a better solution. Yes, there are times when changes to plans are unavoidable but there are other times when the grownup can come up with an alternative. We owe it to the siblings to try. Nobody asked to have an Autism Family but the siblings are the most affected. And the bottom line is that they are just kids and kids are not equipped to handle things like an adult and nobody should burden them with the expectation that they should.
So standing there in pouring rain while wrestling a wild R.A., I took a deep breath and made a conscious effort that Autism was not going to steam roll over Halloween. My daughter was racing down a driveway like she was in a crucial leg of the Tour de France.
"Come on!" She panted. "Let's get moving!"
"Stop!" I ordered.
She protested. "We don't know how much longer he can handle this."
"Listen," I told her. "Halloween only comes once a year and you've been looking forward to it. OUCH!" I was interrupted by the R.A. viciously chinning me. "We are going to have as much fun as we can despite the weather and despite other complications," I said while nodding my head in the R.A.'s direction. "Explorers on a quest did not let rotten weather or ... challenges stand in their way. It was all part of the adventure. Let's pretend we are on a candy quest."
My daughter observed me thoughtfully, initially doubtfully. To be fair there are times when even I ponder my sanity. Gradually her frown changed to a smile. "Sounds good."
So then we lurched off into the night on our Candy Quest. I found if I kept the R.A. moving he wasn't quite as barbarous. While my daughter approached a door for candy, I would walk the R.A. back and forth at the bottom of the driveway. I think it confused him because we would head in one direction and then abruptly change direction and would repeat 3 - 4 times. I literally had him not knowing if he was coming or going.
About halfway through our adventure, thank the Kitchen God, the rain abated. This greatly pleased the R.A. and his roars of fury dissolved into yowls of indignation peppered with insults to my mother.
One neighbor kindly remembered the R.A.'s food allergies and Autism (sounds like an Early Intervention workshop) and when we approached his house presented the R.A. with an entire bowl of Dum Dums for him to rifle through. The R.A. crowed in delight. If he could have dived into the bowl he would have. I was finally able to extract the R.A. when he realized he only had two fists with which to clench his booty. He simply could not bear to part with the lollies and put them in his bag.
His spoils clenched in his hands, the R.A. was far more pleasant for the remaining trick or treat time. So pleasant that he giggled and mirthfully mewled and, I kid you not, skipped down the road. It did make me wonder just what was in those lollies (and where I could get my hands on whatever it was.) Happily, my daughter was able to hit all of the houses in the neighborhood - most importantly the one that gave out full sized candy bars.
All's well that ends well. Another holiday tackled, stomped upon, stamped upon, and driven into the ground. Bring on Thanksgiving!
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