Sunday Morning

Yesterday, my in-laws took my daughter out for a walk and came back with two outsize balloons that are all the rage in the UK. These things are massive and so we have to share living room space for the next few days with Dora the Explorer and Tigger. My daughter takes her enjoyment of these huge interlopers in our air space (seriously, these things are big) very seriously but with avid enjoyment. She bounds up and down the length of the front room, each of them trailing behind her as she sings the Dora theme tune at the top of her voice. I hear that some autistic kids can carry a perfect tune. Mine cannot and hence, as these mini-Zeppelins bounce off the walls with padded thuds we are treated to a cracked rendition of ‘D-d-d-d-d-DOWA!!…..D-D-D-D-D-DOWA!!!’.

Thankfully she doesn’t know the Tigger song. That’s at least one more wonderful thing about Tiggers, I assure you.

She pauses for breath every so often and flings herself down on the couch, breathing hard, then grabs my face. “0820″ she says seriously, looking earnestly into my eyes. “20, 20, 20″ I reply equally seriously and satisfied she takes a slurp of her drink and then sets off for another lap of the room, hair flying behind her, grin lighting up the room.

The numbers are from an advert. Or her creatively adjusted version of an advert. Echolalia of course, but also communication. If translated, the conversation would’ve been “is everything OK Dad?”, “Of course it is dear, go break some crockery with your massive balloons”.

It doesn’t always mean that of course. Its up to me to gauge what it does mean but thats OK. Its much easier to guess the meaning behind her words than it is some non-autistic peoples. How many times have you heard someone say “oh, you know what I mean” when you have no idea?

Over she comes again. “20, 20, 20″ she says. “.co.uk” I agree.

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