How Thomas the Tank Engine and chicken nuggets ruined my life.

I am thoroughly convinced that autism spectrum disorder is the result of a worldwide conspiracy among the executives and major stockholders in the companies that manage Tyson chicken and Thomas the Tank Engine. Not really, but I do find it odd that nearly every autistic child I’ve ever been around has an obsession with Thomas and only eats chicken nuggets. I’m not really sure what it is about these things that make them a common thread among families with autism, but it obviously exists.

If it weren’t for things like my Thomas and Tyson conspiracy theory I would have long ago gone absolutely bananas. There was this odd stage after the boys had regressed where they would engage in some incredibly weird behaviors and Hannah and I felt guilty because they were so amusing to behold. On the rare occasion that we took them to a restaurant we had to keep a close eye on them because they were famous for sneaking over and stealing food from strangers. Because they had such sensory issues Andrew used to lick everything in order to get a good idea of what he was encountering; funny at Christmas with all the new toys, incredibly awkward in the nursery at church. They became obsessively attached to their blankets and Andrew used to insist that his was tied as tightly as possible into a knot and Joel insisted his was laid perfectly flat on the ground without wrinkles or seams. Hannah would get everything in order just they way they liked it and then I would sabotage it. They hated it. I thought it was hilarious. They would lie on the floor and roll their cars back and forth just to watch the wheels spin which isn't in itself all that amusing, but when paired with the absurd looks that would form on their faces it was a riot. One of the most embarrassing, but also most amusing behaviors, was their obsession with butts. If ever we let them roam free through Wal-Mart instead of being in a cart, they would inevitably find the nearest Wal-Marty who was stocking the bottom shelf and run up to play the drums on their bum. It was really great when they’d decide to give a perfect stranger a credit card swipe. When I went to “How to be a parent” college they never prepared me to deal with that kind of stuff. There's not a book titled, "What to Expect When Your Children Have an Unhealthy Interest in Stranger's Butts'" 

We’ve managed to move past most of the offensive or inappropriate behaviors but I believe that because Hannah and I were always so willing to laugh at the situations that were (mostly) harmless the boys have developed in incredible sense of humor. Today we picked them up from school and were asking all the normal questions we go through at the end of the school day. Hannah asked Andrew, “What did you do in school today?” We got the normal response of, “Uhm, nothing. Oh, never mind. I don’t want to talk about it.” She pushed a little harder, and Andrew said, “Hmm, let me think.” He crossed his legs, crossed his arms, and reached one finger up to cover his mouth doing his best to mimic deep concentration. He then slowly slid his index finger across his lips and straight up his nose.

We had to learn to laugh at our life from time to time. Not all of it was funny, but there were days when we laughed to keep from crying. Some of the things we’ve endured have been so incredibly absurd that all we could do to cope was think about how absurd it actually was. When it was absurd in our minds it wasn’t quite as horrible as it had been before. When it was absurd we could endure and conquer. Being able to laugh at ourselves and our circumstances made things a little more manageable. We had to learn not to take ourselves quite so seriously. People who are much smarter than me have done studies to prove the effectiveness of laughing in the healing process (or I am at least under the impression that is true, so let’s all agree to feed my delusion here for a moment while I try to find a point). One thing that was essential for Hannah and I was to realize that Andrew and Joel weren’t the only ones who needed healing. She and I grieved for the loss of our dreams for our children. It was different for each of us and I’ll address the process in more detail at another time, but it was a process for us and the humor of our lives played a crucial role in it.

Whether you have special needs children or not; if you can’t step back from time to time, even when things are exhausting and infuriating, and laugh you’re going to travel your road with a little more burden than is necessary. We’ve learned to love what God has given to us in our lives warts and all. It hasn’t been an easy journey, but at least we’ve had some fun along the way.