So the other day I blogged about trying to find a suitable heroine for my daughter. I had pretty much dismissed Temple Grandin for my obsessed-with-becoming-a-fashion-designer seven-going-on-seventeen year old.
Then just now, daughter and husband are playing Skyrim on the Xbox…
[Don’t troll me, I know it’s not a kids game. Personally I hate and refuse to play fighting games. They love playing them together though… and I can tell you straight that the fictional violence and scary ghosty bits are NOTHING compared to the terror of having a sensory meltdown.]
… and I overhear hubby complimenting daughter on some aspect of strategy and her cunning planning. She replies:
“But Dad, you know I’ve got Aspergers!”
Husband and I glance at each other in mild panic as ‘having Aspergers’ is not generally something we’re always allowed to mention let alone celebrate yet in our house. Then daughter continues:
“It was someone with Aspergers who worked out how to stop all the cows realising that they were going to be slaughtered… how cool is that? People with Aspergers are really clever…”
OK, technicalities about autism/Aspergers to one side, po-tay-to po-tah-to in the scheme of helping a kid deal with ‘not being like everyone else’.
To the non-autism-affected people reading this blog, here’s she is in her all her cowboyesque glory, yet another different story of autism.