People Are Different and That’s OK

I’ve written before how Mira sometimes struggles with having an older sister with autism. Now that summer break is here, Cordy is her most frequent companion, at least until summer camp begins. She wants Cordy to play with her all the time, while Cordy would be completely happy to be left alone with a stack of books and the computer all day long. I’ve been playing referee between the two of them, trying to find a middle-ground of convincing Cordy to play with her sister a little, while also demanding that Mira give her sister some space when she needs time to herself.

On Monday I took Cordy to her weekly occupational therapy appointment. Mira had to come with us, since Aaron was not home from work yet. She gets terribly bored sitting in the waiting room, even with the iPad, several kid magazines and TV in the room. Since the weather has been nicer lately, she asked if we could go to the park near the office while we waited. We’ve done this a couple of times, and it’s definitely an easier way to wait out the appointment with Mira. Burning off some of her energy was preferable to the eventual trouble she’d get into in the waiting room, so I agreed and we went to the park.

Mira loves the swings at this park, and has been working hard at learning to keep herself in motion without being pushed. I usually give her a few pushes to get her started, then sit on the swing next to her and provide encouragement.

This time, a few minutes after we were settled on the swings, another girl about Mira’s size wandered over to the swings, clutching a doll in a blanket. She looked at the empty swing on the other side of Mira, then turned to look across the playground and yelled out “Ma-ma! Sfing!”

Her mom, a disembodied voice on the other side of the playground equipment, yelled back, “I’m not pushing you!”

Mira, ever the chatty child, immediately called out to the girl, telling her that swinging was so much fun and she’s been learning how to keep herself going by kicking her legs out and pulling them back and that it really wasn’t hard at all. The girl nervously eyed the swing and clutched her doll tight, looking back and forth between her doll and the swing.

She then carefully set her doll down on the ground and sat in the swing, looking around as if she didn’t know how to get it started. The girl said something that sounded like “I like to swing sometimes,” but I had trouble understanding what she said.

Mira didn’t lose a beat and started telling the girl her name and then instructions on how to properly sit on a swing and where to hold the chains. (All while continuing to swing, of course.) Mira also volunteered me as a swing pusher, but having just heard the girl’s mom state she wouldn’t push her, I worried about getting involved. What if the girl’s mom was trying to make her learn on her own? I suggested she let the other girl try on her own first.

The little girl lifted her feet, but only swayed gently back and forth. She tried to give herself a little push-off with her feet, but didn’t get any momentum.

The little girl said a few sentences back to Mira, some not entirely directed to Mira but just said to the open air, and it was then I really noticed that she had a lot of trouble with clear speech. She also was unsteady as she moved, more so than many kids her age, and seemed to struggle with getting the strength to push herself to a starting swing.

I wondered if Mira would notice her new friend was different? So far, Mira was still caught up in her monologue about how to swing. But then she noticed the little girl wasn’t going anywhere. “Do you need a push?” she asked the girl. The little girl nodded, her long hair falling over her shoulders.

“Mommy, I need to stop,” she told me, as she tried to stop swinging without losing her flip-flops. She slowed down a little, then got impatient and popped out of the swing, stumbling a little from the unexpected momentum of stepping out of a moving swing.

Mira spun around to look at the girl, determined look on her face as she sized up the child in the swing, and then flashed a big smile at her and said, “OK, I’ll push you. Make sure you’re holding on!”

And then she pushed the little girl on the swing, instructing her the entire time when she needed to kick out her legs and when she needed to pull back. The girl tried to comply but wasn’t really coordinated enough. That didn’t stop Mira from yelling out encouragement, just like I had done with her two weeks prior. “Kick out! OK, now pull your legs back! Good! Kick out faster now!”

They both struggled to get momentum for her swing, and while I could see the girl was working very hard to stay balanced in the swing and follow Mira’s instructions, she was also having a fantastic time. Mira was all smiles as she pushed this stranger.

Once the girl was high enough, Mira jumped back into her swing, begging me to give her a quick push so they could swing together. Her new friend slowed down quickly, and Mira again asked me to push the girl. This time I did give her a few pushes, hoping no one would get upset with me for touching someone else’s child.

A few minutes later, the other girl slowed down again. She got out of the swing and picked up her doll, cradling it as she looked back and forth between Mira and the large playground structure next to the swings. “C’mon, swing some more,” Mira said to her as she continued swinging.

The little girl looked down at the ground and then stammered, “Play with me? There?” She pointed to the twisty slide.

Mira stopped her swing without hesitation. “Sure! Can you climb the stairs?” And off they ran to climb up the fort and slide down the slide. Mira, the kid who never wants to leave the swings, was happy to abandon them when this sweet girl asked her.

For the next ten minutes, Mira and her new friend played together. When the girl dropped her doll as she tried to climb out of a tunnel, Mira quickly came to the rescue and retrieved the doll for her. They both went down the slide several times and laughed at how it made their hair stick out.

Soon it was time to go, and I told Mira we had to go get Cordy from her appointment. Mira said goodbye to the other girl and gave her a big hug, reminding her to keep practicing on the swings. The girl looked so sad to be losing her friend, but then brightened when Mira hugged her.

As we went back to the office complex, Mira said, “I’m sad I had to leave my new friend. She was fun. I don’t know her name, but she’s still my friend.”

“I know you’re sad to leave her,” I replied, “And it was very nice of you to help her swing and teach her what you know. I’m proud of you.”

Mira thought about that for a moment, then took a deep breath and gave her “The More You Know” speech about the topic. (I swear she does this whenever she senses a lesson to be learned. Anyone who has spent time around her will totally know what I’m talking about.)  “Well, you helped me learn to swing. And it’s good to help other people who can’t do things you can do, right? Like Cordy can’t put toothpaste on her toothbrush, so I help her. And that’s OK, cause sometimes we need help, even if we look big enough to do something.”

“You’re totally right, sweetie.”

She wasn’t done yet. “And my friend talked kinda funny, too, but I used to talk funny when I was younger, right mama? You said people couldn’t tell what I was saying and I had to learn to talk right? I didn’t know everything she was sayin’ but then I thought that maybe she’s still learning to talk right, too! And that’s OK.”

(Yes, Mira likes to sum things up with “And that’s OK.” She could sum up just about any difference between people with “And that’s OK.” I probably taught that to her.)

At that moment I thought my heart would burst out of my chest with love and pride. The little girl she now called her friend was different, but Mira didn’t let that stop her from playing with the girl, and helping her when she needed it, so they’d both have a good time. She was kind and patient and helpful – I couldn’t possibly ask for more from my wise six year old.

Mira really has benefited from having an older sister with autism, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. It’s possible she’d be equally as sweet without a special needs sibling, but I think she has a unique insight into differences because of Cordy. I’m certain she helps Cordy every day by being constant social skills practice for her.

Now it’s clear to me that she has the ability to help others, too. That little girl at the playground had a friend to play with: a friend who helped her swing without judgement, encouraged her successes and never once asked why she talked funny. And that little girl helped Mira, too, giving her someone (besides me) to play with and making her very happy. They had so much fun together, like any two kids could.

Mira now hopes that little girl will be at the park next week. I do, too. And that’s OK.