Will You Wear Blue?

The first time I babysat the brothers, their mother described her 6-year-old son to me: he doesn’t speak English, he has his own language, he does his own thing, he’ll probably want to watch The Fox and the Hound over and over again and that’s okay because he knows how to rewind the VCR, sometimes he wants to give kisses and hugs, and sometimes you have to watch out because he hits.

I only ever got kisses and hugs.

His little brother, age 4, was a sweetheart, too, and I wondered what life was like for him. If he was frustrated with his autistic brother, he never showed it. This preschooler was always gentle and patient with his sibling. He could even decipher his older brother’s language.

That babysitting job introduced me to autism. I’d never even heard of it before. But that was 12 years ago, before the Internet and celebrity spokesmoms.

To be honest, even with all the media coverage, I didn’t think much about autism until CW was diagnosed. Our friends' oldest son is a 5-1/2-year-old string bean who loves to sing and dance and laugh and be silly.

CW’s case is not as severe as the boy I used to babysit for, but he has difficulty interacting and communicating directly with others. It’s been about a year, I think, since he was officially diagnosed.

Last spring, not long after his diagnosis, CW’s mom called me to see if I wanted to join her and the kids at the local Goodwill store. We like to to go to browse the kids’ clothes and toys, and the books. I said, “Yes!” and met her there. T Junior was probably about 7 or 8 months old and was attached to the front of me in the Moby wrap.

We were done shopping and headed to the checkout counters when a store employee turned on a loud, electric floor-waxer just as we walked past. By the time we got in line, CW was having a meltdown on the floor next to the shopping cart. The machine’s grinding noise echoed all around us, but were dulled by CW's screams.

The sound that came out of this 4-1/2-year-old boy were ear-piercing. His little brother began to cry in the shopping cart. Even though I was in a different line, I could feel my friend's stress as she frantically threw her items onto the counter to be rung up. The commotion didn’t seem to phase the cashier, who was moving at a snail’s pace.

But shoppers stopped what they were doing and stared. They shook their heads. I could read on their faces the judgments they were making.

I was paralyzed. What do I do? I had a kid strapped to me. I asked the employee to shut off the machine, and he did immediately and apologized, which was nice. Then I didn’t know what else to do. I just stood there in line, but my eyes darted around taking in other people’s reactions. I wanted to face those gawking shoppers and yell, “Stop staring!” But I didn't.

What I should’ve done is put my purchases down and taken both boys outside so their frazzled mom could finish paying without being pelted by glares. Maybe that wouldn’t have worked. Who knows? But I should’ve done something.

Once outside, I hustled over to my friend’s minivan just as she was finishing putting the boys in their car seats. Even though the sliding door had just shut, I could hear CW still screaming and I saw his brother with his hands over his ears.

My friend turned to me, her eyes glistening, and she broke down. I hugged her while she sobbed for a minute. “I can’t do it,” she cried.

I looked at her splotchy face. “Yes you can. God knew you could handle this and that’s why he gave this to you.”

I talked a tough game there in the Goodwill parking lot, but I know I would’ve reacted the same exact way as she did. Actually, I would have been worse. She is stronger than me.

CW has come a long way since that day. He’s lucky. He has loving and dedicated parents. His mom spends many, many hours in her Odyssey driving him to appointments all over the county. His parents work and save so they can afford classes and teachers and therapists. And CW's vibrant little brother, who is 4, is a peer model in one of the therapy groups they attend. I’m amazed at CW’s improvement each time I see his smiling face.

He is why I’ll be wearing blue on Friday.


April 2 is World Autism Awareness Day. Wear BLUE to support your family and friends affected by autism! Click here to donate to Autism Speaks.