Chapter 5 - Days Out

Chapter five
DAYS OUT

My philosophy was, if I didn’t expose Charles to as many situations that were safely possible then he would never learn or grow as a person. Obviously when he was younger I had no idea what he was going to be capable of.

I subjected him to wildlife centres, zoos, stately homes, garden centres, meals out, and took him shopping; anything that in my eyes was the norm. Some outings were an absolute nightmare but got better over time, others he became quite enthusiastic about. He loved animals, reptiles and wildlife centres and always informed me of which dinosaurs roamed the earth before them. Everything was dinosaurs or robot wars.

He became interested in home grown food from garden centres, mostly because he wanted to live in the wilderness with animals, eating natural food.  It was okay with herbs blackberries and gooseberries but I put my foot down at nettle soup. I veered him off the fascination with mushroom as I was worried he might eat them. That was explained later in his life.

Stately homes were a little calmer - well, I say calmer, for us maybe, but not for anyone else visiting. Don’t get me wrong he was interested, but he would always get carried away when the tour guide would ask if anyone had any questions. That’s when my heart would sink as his hand would shoot up and he would start asking all sorts of unrelated questions. No one else could get a word in edge ways. People would look confused, frown and tut.  The more I tried to shut him up the more he felt restricted and confined and the louder his tone would become, then he would start passing wind and they were never silent or sweet smelling! On the plus side, it helped clear the room.

On one of our visits to an autumn apple day at Packwood House, there was me, my sister, eldest son and Charles (aged seven at the time). We had bought some raffle tickets, but unknown to us the National Trust had been selling them all year round so there were quite a few to plough through!

We all gathered round after the day’s events and were anxious to see the raffle tumble box being turned for the winning numbers to be drawn. Children were called to the front to mix and pull the tickets out. I hung onto Charles as he tried to make a dash for a chance at it. The man declared that there were 29 prizes to be won! Even I thought we might have a chance at winning that day!

After about the 5^th prize the man stated that the prize was won by a Mrs Jones, but then he went on to say the same for the 6^th and 8^th prize.

It was at this point Charles shot his hand up and shouted, ‘That’s us!’

‘No, no, it isn’t, silly,’ I said, ruffling his hair. I felt embarrassed but put my hand up, to say, ‘Sorry, just wishful thinking on my son’s part.’ My face was glowing.

I looked down at Charles, who had now got his arms folded and was ready to come out with something else. ‘What did you do that for? You know we’re not the Joneses!’ I said, whispering through gritted teeth.

The real Mrs Jones stepped forward to an awkward silence.

‘Well, I’m sick of waiting,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘It’s a fix,’ and he promptly blew a

raspberry!  

It was at that point we headed for the exit.

Everywhere we went he would get excited and loud and even if I couldn’t see him I could certainly hear him. The only place he was ever lost for words was those old fashioned sweet shops where everything was displayed in glass jars. Once seen he would go on about it all day till we went back and bought something. He would scan every item he could see then try and pick something from every jar. He seemed to get himself into a right old frenzy, picking, choosing. Restrictions had to be put in place as he would have bought the whole shop.

Parties were the same; he couldn’t wait to get started on the food and he would try and fit one of everything on his plate. If they weren’t quick enough to take the cling film off he would sneak past and lift bits off, especially icing sugar from freshly decorated cakes.     Anyone would think I never fed him.

Game shops were another of his favourites. If he had seen a game on telly advertised he would presume like any other child that the shop promoting it would have it in stock, but we, as parents, will know that’s not always the case, especially around Christmas time. Charles for one never understood it; just to go into a shop would be challenging at times. He would go bowling up to the counter pushing in front of everyone. I would apologize, as usual, to people and ask him to come back and stand in the queue properly like everyone else. It was okay when he was younger but as his got older people weren’t as tolerant of him. He’d start balancing on one foot, then the other, rocking forwards and backwards, making excitable noises, which always attracted people’s attention. I’d be trying to keep him at a safe distance from the person in front, hoping that nothing else distracted him from the queue or else he’d be off again. We could go on for hours!

One day we had gone to buy a Nintendo DS game with his birthday money. As he approached the counter he greeted the assistant with an enthusiastic, ‘Good morning, Sir.’ The assistant’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped open at Charles spoke.

‘I would like Pokémon sliver,’ he continued in a loud voice.

The assistant was still frozen to the spot, so I stepped in. ‘Have you got Pokémon sliver, please?’

‘Erm, if it’s not on the shelf, we haven’t got it.’

‘The telly says you have it!’

I looked at the assistant agreeing with Charles, he’d got a point. Charles then started jumping from one foot to the other, becoming distressed and loud.

‘Do you think you could go and have a look to make sure, please, or maybe we can get it from another store?’

Reluctantly, the assistant checked the computer and found that they did have it. Charles then broke out into a dance routine all of his own, hand clapping and repeating,’ Thank you, thank you,’ then the  skipping and humming set in; up and down he went, alongside the counter. I tried to keep him focused, reminding him about getting his money out to pay. He grabbed his birthday money from his pocket, threw it down towards the cashier and shouted,     

‘Keep the change.’

Even before the till had spit the receipt out, Charles was off, claiming he would make a brilliant sales assistant, when he was older! At this point the whole queue was in awe of what they had just witnesses.

I found it a sorry state and a disheartening one that a child can’t express his excitement at receiving his birthday gift in a public place. I know it probably looked and sounded a bit strange when a boy of 13, nearly six foot tall, his voice not yet broken, skipped his way through the revolving doors, but then, that’s our autism.