SILENCE by PAULETTE FROM IOWA

Interesting, how silence can be deafening. It proves that we need the everyday noises to know we are alive: From the buzzing of the fly in the bedroom at night, to using an electronic megaphone, to the beeping of the microwave when it has completed its task, to a child's chanting to get our attention.        
    My granddaughter loves to tell me to “sit down” -- like I wouldn't love to. It is so important to her that I am within eyesight.
    Her mom worked on potty training her. I tried, but it was truly hard and her doctor gave i
nstructions as to what would work on an autistic child. God bless him, it worked. It worked so well, in fact, that she's trying to potty train me and her dolls-- and there are very few accidents with her dedicated vigilance! Needless to say, she is my bathroom monitor and inspector every time I need to use the restroom. There's no escaping. I've tried distracting her, tip toeing around her, slipping into the downstairs bathroom to evade her ‘inspection’, all to no avail. This procedure includes outside restrooms as well. I am under the impression I must become invisible. Once I waited until she was asleep to take a bath, quietly gathering my bath things. It was heaven for about three minutes. Then it was the attack of the rubber ducks, who I might add have creepy eyes. Like a Hitchcock movie, the curtain drew back and pajamas and all, I had a companion in the tub! So much for a relaxing bubble bath. No yelling or screaming, except for the laughter! She thought she was being helpful--not quite. We dried off, got new pajamas on, and read a story before falling asleep, that is, both of us sound asleep!
     I believe reading and talking about a story is important. You get to see a child's perspective. Autism sees the world so wondrously and differently. It takes everything to a different level. You see a cloud; they see art. You see rain; they see tears; you see a mountain they see a new world. It's sad when they become overwhelmed and their brain can't process. Sometimes, the meltdown is a day or two away. Meltdowns are hard: sometimes they need a hug, which grandma never runs out of; sometimes they need to self-soothe. The predictability of life clashes with the need for similarity or sameness. It amazes me that she recalls every crayon. One missing is a code blue. She loves routine. Sometimes I fear OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), but I try to add variety and try to make it acceptable. I mix things up intentionally, the alphabet, the numbers, a song. But, she catches it, proudly corrects me, and continues on.
    Autism is like building a home with lots of windows but not many doors.

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