That Kid

We all know who That Kid is. He’s the one who is a little louder, a little wilder, has a little less self control than the other kids. The one who is climbing up the slide when the other kids at the park are going down, who screams at the top of his lungs for the joy of it, and who puts his hands all over your child because he gets so excited that he literally can’t keep his hands to himself. Sometimes he is a happy ball of energy who is so excited to be somewhere fun with people he loves, and sometimes he is a tornado who runs around knocking down other kids and throwing mulch in their faces.

The Kangaroo is That Kid most places we go.

A couple days ago we went to the splash pad and the Kangaroo was That Kid. So excited and overstimulated with the water and the noise and all the other kids running around that he didn’t know how to channel all his excitement and ended up pushing down all the toddlers he could find. I’m not talking a little push. I mean two arms shoved straight out, toddlers facedown onto the wet concrete, the Kangaroo flapping and jumping next to them. After about twenty minutes, when I could tell that all the other parents there were starting to really mad at us (and yes, I can hear you when you talk amongst yourselves, thank you very much) I grabbed Baby Roo’s hand, scooped up our stuff, and left with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.

So what do you do when your child is being That Kid in public?

Appropriately discipline your child at the moment it happens (this is key. You’ll be embarrassed and frustrated and mad for the next four days, but their goldfish memory will forget about it in about 7 minutes. Disciplining after they’ve moved on accomplishes nothing and just makes you feel worse), remove them from the situation, and then go hide in your car and cry. Get an ice cream cone. Tell your child you love them. Complain to your friends out of your child’s hearing. Play music really loudly and yell along. Text your child’s therapist asking to work on whatever the trigger was that caused them to be lose control. Do whatever you have to do to move on from it, because it’s going to happen again and again and again, and you can’t hold it against your child for being little and having a hard time controlling their hands/feet/body/emotions/mouth. 

And that’s it. That’s all you can do. You are going to go through this over and over and over, so figure out your strategy for recovery.

I can count on one hand the number of play dates/get togethers/ family gatherings/public outings where I have not been worried that every other parent present hates me and the Kangaroo. My internal dialogue during every social situations goes something like this: “please don’t push her down. Did he just lick that toy? Walk away. Please don’t make me have to interrupt this adult I’m trying to talk to and come over there to stop you from grabbing his hair. Stop! Just STOP! Please just hang on five more minutes. I so desperately want to talk to an adult just for a little while. Is he about to pull that boy’s hair? I bet I can guess what his mom is thinking right now. Is it time to go? Please don’t hurt her! Do I need to get our bag and go home? Maybe he can hang on another minute or two. This is so embarrassing. Why can’t he just play nicely? It’s time to go, isn’t it? Okay. Let’s go.” And then I apologize to the person I’m talking to and leave, hoping that they understand that social skills are hard and the Kangaroo wants so badly to be with other kids, even though he can’t show it.

“Oh, he doesn’t mean it.” “We know he didn’t do it on purpose.” “We understand why it happened.” I appreciate you saying that, but just because the Kangaroo is autistic doesn’t mean your child should have to worry about being hurt when they play together. So we leave. We don’t host many play dates because it’s hard to get up and walk away when you’re at your own house. I apologize and apologize and apologize. I keep waiting for my friends to stop accepting invitations to get together, waiting for someone to say that they don’t feel like their child is safe around the Kangaroo. It’s anxiety-inducing and isolating and lonely.

But here’s the thing: if he were any different, a little calmer, quieter, easier, then he wouldn’t be The Kangaroo. His extreme joy and excitement are what makes it hard for him to self regulate when we are in public, but how can you ask a child to be less happy? To be less excited about the world? He has the greatest capacity for joy and love, and I can’t imagine him any different. Every little trait he has is what makes him my favorite little human. Did you know he recently learned how to fake sneeze? He will do it over and over, laughing a big belly laugh each time because he thinks its so funny. He has picked up some of my speech habits and will walk around saying “oh god Mom” when something bad happens. When we walk in the front door after school each day he makes a beeline for the dog, giving him a hug and kiss before he does anything else. This wonderful, loving, exhausting, exhilarating child of mine.

When we have days where he is That Kid and every single thing seems hard I remind myself that if he were any different he wouldn’t be my sweet boy. So I’ll take the difficult days because the good days are so very very good.