“Just like every snowflake is distinct and everyone has their own fingerprints, autism presents itself in various shades,” I explain to my 12-year-old son, Jake. As he matures, he’s become increasingly aware of others sharing his diagnosis.
“Mom, there’s a boy at tutoring who acts strange. He just gets up and starts rummaging through the teacher’s stuff without asking,” he says, his brow furrowing.
I nod, keeping my focus on the road, bracing myself for what’s next.
“He has autism too. Do I act weird?”
“Everyone’s experience with autism is different. Remember when I told you it’s a spectrum? Imagine it as a rainbow. Some people are at one end, searching for a pot of gold, while others are just beginning their journey from the clouds. There are many travelers in between.”
He falls silent, gazing out the window as the world outside whizzes by.
“What about Ethan from school? He’s hurt kids, and he has autism. I never touch anyone.”
“Yes, I understand. His autism shows itself through aggressive outbursts.”
I brace for the next question, knowing he has a knack for cutting through the fluff. It’s one of the things I admire about him.
“How do you know I have autism? If it’s so different from what I see in other kids, maybe I don’t have it.”
Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, I prepare for this critical conversation. Jake is smart enough to expect an honest answer. I miss the days when vague responses could buy me time.
“Do you remember Dr. Wilson?” I reference the specialist who diagnosed him two years ago.
“Yeah.”
“Remember all those assessments and the day you spent working with her? That process is designed to identify autism. Based on your responses, her observations, and input from your dad and me, as well as your school, she can confidently say you are on the autism spectrum.”
As rain begins to patter against the windshield, the quiet in the car is broken by the rhythmic swishing of the wipers clearing the glass. The sun has gone down, and the glow of traffic lights reflects in the darkening sky. He’s silent again, lost in thought.
“Did I catch autism?” he asks after a moment.
“Well, you don’t catch it like a cold. It’s something you are born with,” I reply, relieved he feels comfortable enough to ask these questions rather than keeping them bottled up.
“Why do I have autism when no one else in our family does?”
“Well, you know how people are made up of chromosomes, a mix of dominant and recessive genes? Like how your dad has brown hair while your aunt has blonde? It’s just the way those genes align that creates unique individuals, even from the same parents. Just like how you adore history, but your sister doesn’t. Those differences make each of us special.”
He seems to accept my explanation. We drive through the intersection as the rain intensifies, creating a louder symphony on the car roof. My heart aches for my son, who is earnestly trying to understand where he fits on this ever-changing spectrum. Explaining it to a 12-year-old boy who just wants to make sense of his world is an ongoing challenge.
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In summary, autism is a spectrum that manifests differently in each individual. It’s crucial to communicate openly and honestly about these differences, helping loved ones understand their unique place in the world.
Keyphrase: Autism spectrum uniqueness
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