Quote:
Originally Posted by Eichhörnchen
I've often wondered how my autistic son would get on with one of these
Yesterday (true story) I was behind a woman in a shop who was asking whether they'd got that game called "Frustration". There followed a lot of calling out, to and from the back room... and very like the shop scene in "Little Britain"... as she insisted she'd seen it there the other day, and finally the conclusion was that they had not got it
"How frustrating", I said...
... well I just had to
...
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Having your son give Rubik's a go might not be a bad idea; my siter, who had several disabilities, among them autism, often surprised us by some of the things for which she seemed to have an affinity or skill; it might have been something seemingly minor, but the accomplishment of something even trivial was a great confidence builder for her and would often lead to her wanting to try something else; sometimes it is better to let them at least try rather then shield them and have them feel possibly 'different' unnecessarily ...
BTW, I seldom want to mention this, but I have a high-functioning Asperger's, something of which I was unaware of until quite late in life and learning of my condition was a bit of a godsend in that it explained so many of the difficulties I'd had, particularly in my youth. I was fortunate in having the guidance of my grandparents in my earliest years, who encouraged me to explore and attempt to do things my overly-protective, overly-superstitious, overly-religious mother would usually find appalling; I have often said that whatever good I am as person is solely due to my grandpa and grandma; had it not been for them, my early difficulties would probably been greater...
The "Margaret, Margaret" clip brought to mind an old drinking buddy of mine, a young woman from Ireland, who, in her cups, would often relate her experiences growing up in Ireland; she had a particular lack of fondness for the name 'Margaret'; she said there was an inordinate number of girls named Margaret in her neighborhood and, at the end of every day when the mothers would stand in their front doors calling in their children, there was a seemingly endless repetition if "Margaret!!", "Margaret!!", "Margaret!!" in various voices up and down the streets...
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