The little things

Sometimes, when someone you love has autism, it's the big things that make you sad. The assessments with psychologists, the big meltdowns, the anxiety, the pressure that this early time intervention is your one time chance to make it as good as it can be for your child, so you better have a damn good shot at it. In my head, they are all the big things in the complex interaction I have with the Batsman's autism each day.


And sometimes it's the smallest of things that can just, well, make you a bit sad.
Like today. There's the casual invitation to join other mums and kids from kinder in the park. To eat and play under the watch of a beautiful sunny day. I decline with a sigh. We can't go and join in the fun. The Batsman is about to begin his afternoon therapy session so it's lunch at home and a quick play in the sandpit for us.


I know. In the scheme of all things autism, it's a minor disappointment and it's one that only I feel. As I write this the Batsman is chatting away to himself outside, sand and water bliss everywhere. He doesn't know he is missing a play date. And I know, that this intensive therapy program life that we lead is not forever and I'll probably miss the structure when it's over. But today, it's a small thing that makes me sad. Today, I just would like us to be like everyone else.


But I guess that's not really a little thing is it?