First of all, if you don’t get the Crocodile Dundee reference then you’re too young for me!
Secondly, Donk has become Noah’s latest nickname after his escapades at preschool last week. Our ever adventurous little monkey decided to try a flying lesson, off of a chair, forehead first into a hard wooden floor… the bruise was, impressive, to say the least, and is only just fading now, but it got me thinking about his sense of danger (or lack of!) and how we‘re supposed to teach him self awareness, when right now I can’t seem to be able to teach him anything else.
It’s one of those things that can often go hand in hand with autism, and it’s why living independently for some autistic adults can be a challenge, and a huge worry for some parents. I’d be lying if it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that keeps me up at night. Right now, as things stand, I can‘t imagine a world where Noah doesn’t need me to keep him safe 24/7. That’s not to assume it isn’t entirely possible in the future, of course it is, he surprises us every day, but he also makes questionable decisions like his poorly thought out flying lesson.
For now, I teach him safety through positive risks and lots of repetition. For example, I can get him to hold onto the door handle of the car and wait whilst I’m unloading bags or switching off alarms because it’s a routine we’ve repeated everyday for as long as I can remember now. Would I trust that he would do it automatically if he were out with anyone else? Not one bit. I’d love to be proven wrong though.
Toddlers learn through trial and error, and by actually being allowed to try stuff. I’m making a conscious effort lately to not let Noah’s autism stop him learning in the same way. Why can’t he pour his own milk, or carry his plate from the kitchen? I’ve definitely been guilty of doing too much for him in the past, or hovering over him when he’s doing something. Take his confidence in swimming. He will bob himself closer and closer to the deep end, giggling away until his feet don’t reach the bottom anymore, and still he’ll be smiling. I follow along behind him ready to pull him up if he needs it, but if I don’t let him feel how his body reacts to the water, how he floats or even how he sinks, how is he ever going to learn?
He has to be able to take the same risks other children his age are taking, have the same experiences and opportunities. He may learn in a different way, it might take longer than his peers but it’ll take even longer if I don’t make sure he has that chance.
So, for every donk there is a story, a learning opportunity, an experience. The bruises will fade, the cuts and grazes will heal, and there will always be a little mark on my heart whenever he hurts himself, but I can’t put a limit or a price on his learning. I have to step back, just a little bit at a time, so that he can step forward into the wonderful, brilliant person he’s going to be.
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