Autistic Holidays

‘Twas the week before Christmas
And all through the house
They struggled to function
As each kid would grouse.
Demands of the season made
Schedules a mess,
Causing griping and grumbling
And emotional stress.

Heaven forbid that they
Vary the ritual
Or change any detail of
Something habitual.
Yelling and meltdowns
Turned family to foe
While the luster of warfare
Was all they would know.

“He said…” and “She said…”
was the carol they heard
With such literal thinkers
They must measure each word.
“I don’t like the breakfast!”
“My shoes don’t feel right!”
“I can’t wear those socks now-
The elastic’s too tight.”

Papa was slaving
Between work and home race
While mama was driving
All over the place.
At the end of each long day
The parents would drop
And long for the day when the
Tension would stop.
They often were tempted
To run away screaming;
Hope so elusive
They lost sight of dreaming.

Then what to their faltering
eyes should appear:
An analytic mind-
A bright engineer ?
Interests discovered
Where gifts could prevail
Amidst the obsession
And attention to detail.

It’s all part of living
The hard realism
of loving and raising
A child with autism.
There’s no simple recipe
For what makes ‘em tick
When your child’s special gifts
Include that they’re autistic.