This photo is incredible for so many reasons. It stood out to me the first moment that I saw it on my computer as I was uploading it to our photo site.
This is Sawyer. He is looking at me. He is engaging me. He is communicating (albeit non-verbally) with me.
In effect, he is saying, "Hey, Lady, get up and come push me on the swings!"
You might not know that. And perhaps I wouldn't either, except he had already been in the pool and on the trampoline, and the swings were his next logical step. If I was uncertain, then him leading me to his favorite swing and sitting down was confirmation enough.
But let's look beyond the fact that he was requesting help. He has done that for quite some time. He is a master of pushing and pulling and pointing to get his needs and wants addressed. I rarely have trouble understanding what he wants. Most others don't either.
And he is, in fact, incredibly talented at picking the best person in the room he can most easily manipulate to get his desired item. He knows which one will most easily bend to his will, a particularly unusual skill for many with autism, or so I am told by the professionals, but one both my boys have mastered just the same. They read people, enough to know which ones will be likely to cooperate and which ones are more inclined to refuse (at which point persistence comes into play, and both are very good at that as well).
But I digress.
Back to the photo. To my boy, who is looking at me with his big brown eyes. Who is not flinching from my return gaze or even the snap of the camera. Who is engaging me on his own. Who wants not only my help, but also my company. Because once we make it to the swings, he wants me to stay. Not to push. No, he is content to rise and fall, twist and turn, all on his own. He just wants me there. With him.
And I have to tell you, I would stay all day long. For those brown eyes to look at me. For that child to want my presence as much as my help. Yes, I would stay all day.
