Fathers and Sons at the Playground

The summer came and went without a visit to the beach. Without walking along the sand or dipping our feet in the water. 

Over the weekend, we decided to drive to the beach. It's off season and the parking is free and we knew the playground would be empty. 

The Boy loves the beach. We walked up and down the beach holding hands - more out of need than out of want. The Boy wanted to run, take off his shoes, throw himself in the sand and roll around. But it's winter in New York City. And it was a cold November day.

Norrin and Joseph | Orchard Beach | 11/30/13

After walking along the beach, we headed back to the playground. We were right, it was empty. The Husband and I sat on a bench and relaxed while The Boy ran around. Though The Husband and I sat on benches at opposite ends. This playground is large and there are exits on three sides. The Boy was happy, running freely, flapping his hands. It's nice having the playground to ourselves, a little luxury.

And then they came in. A father with his teenage son. I heard him before I saw them. His voice in the midst of changing from boy to man. His voice sounded familiar, though I couldn't understand anything he said. When I turned to look, I saw them on the swings. The father was swinging, gently urging his son to do the same, "Kick your legs…kick your legs like me." The son's arms looped around the swing chains and was moving gently back and forth, "talking" loudly. Nothing he said made sense but I didn't want to assume the son was non-verbal (because I'm sure when The Boy makes his strange loud noises, people assume he can't speak).  

In that moment, I felt such a strong connection to the father. We were all at the playground, at the beach on cold Saturday afternoon because we knew it would be empty, "safe" for our kids. I imagined the father's worries, his joys. I smiled at the father, though I don't think he noticed - his gaze was focused on his teenage son and trying to teach him how to swing.  

I turned my attention to my son. He was standing at the platform in front of a "fireman pole." I could tell he was hesitant. He's fearless in many ways and in other ways, overly cautious. 

"You can do it boy. Just slide down." The Husband said. "I'm here Norrin. I will help you. Slide down."

Norrin slid down and I clapped before his feet touched the ground. I ran over and told him he did a great job. I smiled at The Husband, "That's his first time doing that."

"How do you feel?" The Boy asked.

"I feel proud." I said. 

The Boy was cold and requested hot chocolate. We left the playground, leaving the father and his teenage son to have the space for themselves. It was their turn.

***

Later I asked The Husband about the father and son. "Did you notice them?" I asked. "He reminded me a little of Norrin."

"Yeah," The Husband shrugged and said nothing else.

We don't talk much about autism. We don't talk about what The Boy's future will be like. We don't talk about our worries or fears much. Maybe it's because we'd rather focus on the present. Or maybe it's because it hurts.    

Whenever we see an older boy with autism - it's like looking through a crystal ball. It forces us into the future we are not quite ready for. Sometimes it's easier to look away and say nothing.

***

The next day I took The Boy to the playground by our apartment. Once again we had the park to ourselves. I sat on a bench and let The Boy run free.

After a few minutes another father and son came in. The son was much younger (probably between 4 - 5 years old) and smaller than The Boy. And I was happily surprised when The Boy said, "Hi! Do you want to play with me?" and the young boy obliged. I watched them chase each other around. 

When The Boy tired of tag, he walked over to the swings and the little boy followed him. The Boy is getting so good at swinging on his own. I thought back to the days when he refused to even sit on the swing and marveled at how far he's come.

The little boy yelled out to his father for help. The father - who was sitting at the other end of the park, reading the paper - didn't get up and just yelled at him to "kick his legs." The little boy tried, wriggling his legs but nothing happened. After yelling for help a second time, the father walked over. 

I watched as the father gently pushed his son, instructing him to kick. And I thought about the father with his teenage son from the day before. I thought of The Husband and The Boy. Different fathers, different sons, different parks, different circumstances - same thing. Just three fathers helping their sons. Doing what good fathers are supposed to do.

Neither The Husband nor I know what the future holds for our son. But I know that no matter what happens, The Boy will always have his father to help him along the way.

     

Arthur Avenue Playground (Sundays in My City)

The church bells were ringing, The Boy was covering his ears.

The Money Shot.
Love when I capture a photo that
really shows his joy.

Share your city/town/suburb/you name it with The Unknown Mami! I did :) 

The Elephant in the Playground [Sundays in my City]

I love taking The Boy to the playground early on Sunday mornings. 

This morning, we were the only ones there. I was able to sit on the bench, relax and just let The Boy have the run of the place.  I didn't have to worry about him hurting anyone or anyone hurting him.

And I got to practice my photo skillz. 

See What Unfolds

The Boy is busy. Always moving, running, jumping. It's pretty hard to keep up and often hard to calm him down. In Sensory Processing Disorder terms - The Boy has an extremely high level of energy. A few years ago an occupational therapist suggested we give The Boy gum to give him the input he needs.* So we send gum to school and we use it during therapy to help keep The Boy focused and on task.

Needless to say, we go through a lot of gum. For Christmas The Boy's Nino (padrino/godfather) often gives us boxes of Trident Layers gum as stocking stuffers. Trident Layers is The Boy's gum of choice - it gives him that burst of fruit flavor he loves and provides the oral sensory input he needs.

Typically, I don't give The Boy gum while we're out and about. This afternoon we did a little shopping and then hit the playground. I had just bought a few packs of Trident (Orchid Peach + Ripe Mango and Wild Strawberry + Tangy Citrus) to send to school and decided to give him a few pieces (I give him 2 or 3 at a time). Since we had the playground to ourselves I was able to sit and relax. (I may have stole a few pieces for myself.) And then something happened...

"Open it and see what unfolds"    

A little boy - I'll call him "Manny" - ran into the playground and asked The Boy if he wanted to play tag. And The Boy said yes. For the next thirty minutes, I watched as The Boy played with Manny. Yes, The Boy needed some prompting and redirection. Even when The Boy didn't seem interested, Manny persisted on playing with The Boy. And it was Manny who first approached me asking for The Boy's name.   

I had never seen The Boy engage like that before. I had never seen a little boy like Manny try to engage The Boy the way he did. It was only a few weeks before at the very same playground, two girls were laughing at The Boy for being different. And here was little Manny, wanting to be The Boy's friend.

When we left the playground, I thanked Manny and his mother. It was also the first time, I had taken the time to talk to another playground mom. She totally seemed to get it, she asked questions and offered words of encouragement. I hope we see them again. And next time we see them, I'll be sure to prompt The Boy to share his gum with Manny.   

Disclaimer: This is part of a sponsored campaign with Latina Mom Bloggers and TRIDENT. However, all opinions expressed are my own.




*Before engaging in new therapies or techniques for a child with Sensory Processing Disorder, parents should consult the family pediatrician or occupational therapist.
Read more: How to Calm Children with Sensory Processing Disorder 

It's Not Okay To Laugh At Him

I am not the kind of mother who can take their kid to the park and relax on a bench, reading a book or chatting with other parents, watching from a distance.

No, I'm right on the front lines. Dodging screaming sweaty kids, while watching out for The Boy. And occasionally, pushing another kid on the swing or helping them navigate the playground equipment and sometimes even cheering them on because they look so proud when they do something cool and look so bummed that their parents aren't paying attention.

Sometimes, I watch other kids staring at The Boy. The older he is getting, the more frequent it's become. I am working up the courage to address the starers.

But today was a playground first. Two little girls (sisters) laughed at The Boy.  

They were between seven and nine years old. The first time it happened, I approached one of the girls who I overheard talking about The Boy. She said something about not wanting to play near him because he was making funny noises. I tried to explain that Norrin has trouble talking and makes noises when he gets excited. But since had no interest in playing with the girls, I did not bother to make introductions.

Moments later, the sisters were playing on the merry-go-round when The Boy ran and joined them. The girls were having trouble making it go around and I was willing to help since The Boy was there.  (The girls parents were sitting on a nearby bench.) As I walked over, I heard the girls giggling and the girl I had spoken to was repeating what I was saying and laughing. When she saw me, she covered her mouth but she was still laughing at The Boy.  So was her sister. 

I gave the merry-go-round a push. But the girls kept laughing, staring at The Boy. Not really caring that I was there or that The Boy could see them.

And The Boy?

Blissfully unaware and unbothered that these girls were blatantly laughing at him.

But I was aware. And I was bothered. 

Because The Boy is barely seven. These girls slightly older than him. And they are laughing. What will happen when The Boy is twelve, fifteen, nineteen? Will he be pushed around, cursed out or beat up? Will it bother him then?

I was bothered because The Boy had not bothered them in any possible way. He did not taunt them or push them out of the way. He did not deserve to be laughed at.   

I stopped the ride, grabbed The Boy by the hand and told him we were going to another playground.

I wanted to scream at those girls for laughing.  I wanted to ask them how they would feel if I started laughing at them because of something they did. I wanted to yell at their parents, who had not bothered to look up a single time.

I've been angry ever since. 

It is not okay to laugh at The Boy.  

It is not okay to laugh at anyone for being different. That's how bullying begins.

I should have never left the playground. I should have stayed and stood up for The Boy. I should have reminded the girls that it's never nice to laugh at someone who is different. I should have gone up to the parents and explained the situation.

Why should I have to accept except it as kids just being kids? 

Why is bullying, the kind of "typical" behavior that's acceptable and The Boy's "atypical" behaviors not?