Square Peg, Meet Round Hole: Navigating Playground Politics With Autism

Our first-born is getting older, and I see the social dynamics among his peers changing. Tiny kids are so open-minded—nobody is “weird”, and everyone has the potential to be a friend. I’m not sure when or WHY things shift at some point, but they inevitably do. 

Suddenly the boy who talks too loud, or too closely, or too off-topic, he’s considered strange instead of interesting. The little girl with messy hair and mismatched clothes starts to get eye rolls instead of smiles when she approaches her classmates. I wish we could bottle up the general sentiment of acceptance that is so pervasive in preschool and kindergarten to help get us through the rest of school, once the judgment kicks in.

Our son is only seven and in mainstream first grade, so we haven’t truly hit tough terrain yet, but I see the foundation forming. He’s oblivious, which is simultaneously a blessing AND the source issue. He can’t tell when someone isn’t interested in what he’s currently obsessing about, but he also doesn’t notice when the child he’s honed in on looks bothered or taken aback. He keeps on talking and asking questions until I intervene with something like “Hey, buddy…that kid may not want to give you his address 10 seconds after meeting him, do you see his face? He looks a little surprised and uncomfortable, right?” 

Recently at a birthday party, he kept repeating the same thing over and over again loudly, and when the older kids he was directing this towards started laughing (at him, not with him), he doubled down and repeated the phrase even louder, thinking he was entertaining them. One of the kids told him to “shut up”; our son knew that wasn’t a nice word, but I stepped in before I had a chance to see him handle the situation himself. Mama bear instincts aren’t easily subdued.

I obsess too much about who he hangs out with, or with whom he doesn’t, which I suspect isn’t entirely just a “me” thing or a special-needs-mom thing. I try to nonchalantly interrogate him every day after school—in a very “I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom” way—sprinkling him with questions like “did you play with anyone?”; “who did you eat lunch with today?”; “was everyone nice to you?” Never forgetting to attach an “I mean, it’s cool either way, I’m just curious…” qualifier to the end. I catch myself often and realize I’m focusing too much on something he obviously isn’t the least bit disturbed by—likely projecting my OWN baggage onto him, which isn’t right nor fair. I do know better.

Some days his response is “I didn’t really hang out with anyone. I like being by myself.” And on other rare occasions when I’m being particularly annoying, he’ll give up the suspected name or general physical description of someone he maybe played with, knowing this will likely satiate my curiosity. 

We’ve been fortunate enough to know that our son has indeed found a friend at school with whom he can often be found with, but we get mixed messages through the grapevine about how his time is spent otherwise—ranging from reports of “he’s sociable and well-liked” to “he spends most of his time by himself or with his aide.” I sometimes wish I could be a fly on the wall during recess or at the after school program, silently observing who my son truly is at school, but I realize that would serve no one. 

In other words, it’s a daily battle for me too; a constant struggle to find the balance between involved and informed mom, and borderline-psychotic and obsessive overseer. It’s also really important to me that he is comfortable in his own skin.

I don’t think he should need to entirely alter his personality or dull his distinctive shine just because society tells him he’s TOO different. Yes, we do ABA, but giving him the tools to recognize social cues and sustain attention in class is one thing, asking him to change WHO he is just for the sake of “fitting in,” well that’s the line I try my absolute hardest not to cross.

I think if I just knew I could somehow spare my sons of forced isolation and taunting, I’d relax a bit, but I know that’s not a promise anyone can make me, and bullying statistics aren’t comforting, particularly for autistic children.

So here’s my ask to my fellow parents: let’s try and keep the magic going a bit longer. Let’s teach our kids that being nice IS cool, and that the kid who acts different, or looks different, or sounds different—he or she is no less. Encourage your child to accept and cultivate friendships with these children, even if it isn’t easy. I assure you it isn’t for my son either, but he is trying.

Maybe your kids will come across peers like my son who ask questions that seem strange or out of context, get frustrated easily, flap their hands with excitement or stand a little too close, or maybe they talk loudly in quiet rooms. Whatever the case may be, I bet they are also capable of helping your kiddo see the world in a special and beautiful new way. 

The world could use a little more understanding, kindness, and acceptance, don’t you think?

So tell me—are you more relaxed than I am? How do you let go while your child is at school and just accept what you aren’t privy to?