Battleship

When I was a young girl, I used to love to say to my opponent, "You sank my battleship!"  It was a pleasurable concession to the obvious winner of the moment, and I had no problem proclaiming the victory of another.  Well this willingness to concede, coupled with humility and fairness, is of utmost importance in my adult life, because now I find myself needing to feel this way toward my autistic son, unfortunately more lately than ever.

Yesterday, like most kids will do, he tested my patience on the way to school by continuously demanding cheese and crackers.  This was not possible because we were late for the bell and he would need to get there on time for breakfast, but the more I tried to explain this to him, the more relentless he became with his demand for the cheese and crackers.  So I stood my ground and began enjoying the morning talk show on the car radio. When he realized I would not budge, he kicked and screamed and cried from the back seat, in a heated and focused attempt to sink my battleship.  He won.  I yelled at him and made the mad vein pop out of my neck, which the people in the next car also noticed.  When he gets the best of me, and I find myself losing patience, I must remember this childhood feeling of defeat and accept it for what it is, knowing full well that I will get another chance in the next round.  I should have said to him, with the same conviction of when I was a child, "You sank my battleship.  Now let's go again."

So there you have it, Super Parents.  My toy-driven, nostalgic advice for the day is this:  Whenever your autistic child sinks your battleship, hang in there and go for another round!  Odds are, he or she won't sink it twice.  Keep your heads up, and God bless.