BLOG: A Child’s Christmas With Autism

The holidays are all about memories and expectations. For me, the gold standard of Christmas was set when I was between the ages six and fourteen. My brother and I are a little over a year apart, so we would coordinate our gifts and play throughout the long, languorous break from St. Joseph<92>s parochial school. One year we got our first Star Wars action figures — my Darth Vader and Nick<92>s Obi Wan Kenobi. They chased each other up the lava flow of the orange shag carpet on the living room steps. Another year we opened an Atari 5200 and a Pac-Man game cartridge. All other years were pretty much dedicated to those two mighty categories of toys <96> video games and action figures. Meticulous planning was required. We would write lists to help our poor mother and father pick exactly the right character to fit into our Star Wars storyline. Precisely the right game to balance our collection. We were in 80s nerd heaven.



The element of surprise may be over rated.



It certainly is for our son Zachary. He<92>s only two and half, but he<92>s been diagnosed with Autism for almost a year. Like most autistic children, Zacky has a hard time with new situations. Things we take for granted <96> little social interactions <96> present big challenges with complicated sets of rules for him. Noted neurologist Dr. Oliver Sacks compared it to being an anthropologist on Mars; a stranger in a strange land.



This year one worry was opening Christmas presents. Zack<92>s older brother has no problem with this. He can open his or anyone<92>s present faster than you can say <93>ho, ho, ho.<94> But we had a feeling it would be different for Zacky. He<92>s come a long way since last year when opening a gift with him pretty much involved holding him down in your lap and tearing it open in front of him while he tried to squirm away. Showing him some shiny new thing and hoping that he takes a glimmer of interest, a momentary break from his faraway stare.



Thanks to the brave work of his mom, his therapists, and Zacky himself, he is so much better this Christmas. He<92>ll look at you when you call his name (usually), he can give hugs, and just a couple of weeks ago he kissed me for the first time in his young life. But we didn<92>t know how he<92>d handle gift opening. When there is lots of activity it<92>s easy to lose track of Zacky and left to his own device he<92>d rather run away and go find a quiet place and some familiar toy <96> or worse yet, self-stimulate (in Zacky<92>s case running around in circles or rolling the wheels of a toy truck on his belly over and over. These are considered <93>no-nos<94> for kids like Zacky.) So we talked to one of his therapists. She suggested that we practice opening gifts.



The logic works like this: most children love new things. Zacky depends on the things he knows and understands. To most kids, a surprise is magic. To Zachary, it may be kind of confusing or scary. So this week, every day, my wife has wrapped a gift for our son. Not a new toy <96> something he already knows and loves.



We sit him down and present the wrapped gift to him then kind of gently encourage him to explore the paper. We<92>re supposed to set him up for success at these little tasks as much as we can. Fortunately, as a two year old, he<92>s bound to eventually start ripping on his own so we just encourage him <96> clapping, smiling, happy voices. Over-the-top reactions to little signs of progress become force of habit after a while.



The experiment has been a success. Zacky has found that he enjoys opening gifts. He likes ripping paper, he likes the excitement, and now that he<92>s had a few good experiences (with toys he already knows) he<92>s even motivated to find out what<92>s inside.



Last night as we made entirely too many Christmas cookies, my wife and I further strategized for the Christmas Eve party. We agreed that one of us should to stay close to Zacky during the party, not because he needs us to be content but because he may need us to help show him how to be involved. We can help him try the new foods (that<92>s a big issue) and we agreed it<92>s probably a good idea to introduce him to his cousins since he probably won<92>t approach them on his own. And we<92>ll build in some downtime for him too <96> a good animated Christmas special should work.



So, we<92>re optimistic. For the first time we can perhaps look forward not just having a good time at the party with Zacky there, but to actually having a good time with Zacky.



At about 16 months old, when Zack<92>s verbal skills stopped and he began to stare and moan, it felt like watching him walk away from us down a long dark corridor with no discernible end. And every day it felt like he was receding into the darkness, getting further away. Through therapy, we<92>re getting closer again. We<92>re calling him back and, bless his heart, I believe he wants to find his way back to us.



Autism strikes one in every 166 children and therapy is the only thing that<92>s proven to help. It is a spectrum disorder, so one can<92>t make assumptions about what does or doesn<92>t constitute a developmental problem. If you think your child might be suffering from autism, please ask your doctor to put you in touch with early intervention services.



Christmas is a time to be together. As a parent of an autistic child, to me isolation is the enemy. If an activity is important to the family, it<92>s important to make him part of it.