Vacation Report

My little Nicholas, six years old, is Autistic.

These days they call it Autism Spectrum Disorder, which is an apt name, because the kids we meet at the center where Nicholas goes for therapy range from not speaking at all to barely presenting as Autistic.

In his case, Nicholas is affectionate and social, has a strong vocabulary, though is not yet speaking in more complex sentences, and is not yet eating solid food, due to severe food texture issues. He has other quirks that will become apparent as this story unfolds.

One of the first things a parent of an Autistic child needs to do is dispense with expectations. I’ve never had expectations of normalcy myself - too many bad, made for TV movies while growing up, I suppose - but there is a lot more in the domain of expectations that one has to let go of when it comes to an Autistic child.

For the past few months, we prepared Nicholas for a trip to Niagara Falls. We called him an ‘International Traveler’, talked to him about his first long road trip, first stamp in his passport, first time in a hotel, first time sightseeing, and he was very excited to go.

The whole drive up, roughly 8 hours, Nicholas was very happy to see the sights and stop at the rest stops. He was excited to cross the rainbow bridge, check into the hotel, get settled in the hotel room, and look out of our hotel window on the falls.

After an hour or so, however, he became inconsolable with the idea that Maggie, our dog, was home alone, even though he knew that our daughter, Natacha, 22 years old, was home with her. He wanted to go home right away. It was more than just the dog, of course, as he was no longer able to follow his normal routine at home.

He cried himself to sleep that night.

I figured that after a full day of sightseeing the next day, Nicholas would have a different point of view, so I remained hopeful about our vacation plans. The next day we walked along the falls, went down into the tunnel behind the falls, took a ride on a boat right up to the falls, and walked through a lot of the sites around the main concourse.

As the day ended, I started to prepare Nicholas for all the plans we had for the next day.

Like a Baptist Pastor, preaching to his flock, each time I told Nicholas what we were going to do next, he would reply “…and then go home?” Thus, I started, “tomorrow we can go see the big whirlpool”, he replied “…and then go home?”. I continued, “and then we can go see the flowers”. He continued, “…and then go home?”. I persisted, “and then go see the butterflies”, he persisted, “…and then go home?”. In fact, he asked when we were going home about 300 times during the day.

Part of Nicholas’ condition entails repetition, most predominantly in the form of asking the same question over and over again. I don’t mean like how normal kids ask the same question over and over again. Nicholas is an order of magnitude above that.

Towards the end of her life, when my grandmother was suffering dementia and asked the same question 100 times, I was always surprised how it did not bother me, even as it drove my mother insane. I always figured it was because I only experienced it during my brief visits, whereas my mother was living with it every day. Living with Nicholas every day, I realize that I am just impervious to the agitation that might normally accompany such a phenomenon, though I am not sure my wife feels the same way ;-)

Needless to say, we drove back home the next day, so our vacation consisted of one day driving up, one day sightseeing, and one day driving back.

I was actually happy to go home, as was my wife, and I love to drive, so it all worked out in the end, but what do you think happened as soon as I pulled into the driveway?

Nicholas started crying that he wanted to go back to Niagara Falls!

He cried his way into the house, walked right by Maggie without giving her a thought, and then he cried himself to sleep. These days, I field 200-300 questions per day about when we will be going back ;-)