Autism Vox

The Ides of May

by Kristina Chew, PhD on May 15th, 2008

It’s Charlie’s 11th birthday today. I had asked his teacher about bringing in a cake and she said that would be great, but could we do it on May 14th, as she was planning to be at an autism conference on the 15th? Sure I said and made plans to leave early on Wednesday so I could get to the bakery (cake in the house = cake found and eaten by Charlie, so best to buy it at the last minute).

Of course, I could barely drag myself away from my college campus. It was nearig 1.20pm when I turned right onto Routes 1 & 9, which were backed up (in fact, someone did a U-turn in the middle of the road on seeing the traffic ahead). I went up the on-ramp at the Broadway exit of the Pulaski Skyway and the car in front of me made a U-turn in the middle of the on-ramp when he saw the standstill traffic ahead. I went on and may as well have parked my car: No on was moving on the Skyway.

I figured there my be an accident and so we sat. And sat. And inched onward a bit, and sat and inched. I called Charlie’s school and asked to have his teacher told I wasn’t going to make it: Apparently Charlie has been talking non-stop about “birthday cake” and my parents, Gong Gong and Po Po (Cantonese for maternal grandfather and maternal grandmother)—in fact, when I was at Charlie’s cello lesson on Tuesday, the aide told me that Charlie had been talking about all of that over and over and had had a rough morning.

“It’s birthday anxiety,” I said.

“What?” said the aide.

I explained how, starting when he was 7, Charlie got so anxious about his birthday—about having the cake, and the party, and my parents coming, and everything—-that he once kept saying “birthday cake” so many times and so loudly that he became hoarse, cried, and head-banged. He would be happy during the party, and then tense, and then miserable. So we started to do the “very lowkey birthday” with the cake and presents and a small party, but with minimal build-up and mild hoopla.

This year I thought of doing something for Charlie’s classmates—maybe bowling or at the pool—but Jim and I wondered about the logistics and each child’s particular needs. So we decided that a school birthday party would be nice and then I made plans to take Charlie to California in June between the end of school and the start of Extended School Year, and my parents are planning to have a big birthday with my family at their house. (Yes, this way I don’t have to worry about all the cooking and cleaning and everything else……)

But yesterday I wasn’t even sure I was going to make the school party, up there in the Skyway as we inched forward in the warm spring sun. Finally, finally, somewhere over Kearney, I sighted police car lights, on more than a few police cars—one of which, I saw as I got closer, was on a tow truck as its back end was quite smashed in. A beat-up red car was nearby, looking even more beat up. There were firetrucks (keep in mind, the Skyway is a 2-lane bridge each way, with no shoulder to speak of) and then we got past them and everyone started racing away.

I made it to the bakery and also found a can of soy whipped cream—-why not. I hurried through the busy main street of a suburban New Jersey town and then onto the highway and then I realized, I could make the party! I got to Charlie’s school at 2.37pm (school ends at 3pm) and ran for the main office (tucked away into a side of the building), rang the buzzer, signed in, put on a nametag, and hurried to Charlie’s room. He was outside with an aide—most likely riding a bike, with the aide running after him (yes, the aide’s a good runner)—and Charlie’s teacher got out plates and a plastic knife and her camera.

Charlie came in with a big smile and, on seeing the cake indicated that he was ready to eat. One student had gone out briefly: “Can we wait for him?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Charlie. Another child told me he wanted to talk about Sesame Street. The student we were waiting for came back and then it was 1-2-3 and we sang “Happy Birthday,” Charlie leading. “Cake, cake,” he told me, “brownie cake.” (Yes, it was chocolate.) I cut pieces and the whipped cream was spouted on (”looks like a Ding Dong!” someone said; it did) and Charlie and his classmates ate away. Two boys poked and pushed their plates away, the boy Charlie wanted to wait for ate his, and Charlie had seconds and thirds. (Charlie, as noted, is clearly the tallest, though the youngest.)

It was almost 3pm and everyone started to get backpacks and put in lunchboxes and get ready for the bus. I asked Charlie if he’d like to go home in the black car or the school bus and he said the former; as he stood with his backpack, I tried to open it to put in the leftover cake and whipped cream. “No backpack, no cake, no whipped cream,” Charlie told me. I said fine and assured him he could have more at home, and we bid the teachers and aides bye. Charlie stopped just as we were about to go out the door and took the cake and whipped cream from me and put them in the cabinet, and grinned as he shut the doors. “Bye,” he told everyone.

Julius Caesar was told to beware the Ides of March but I’m think it’s all right to welcome the Ides of May.

Guess I know what Charlie’ll be having for snack at school tomorrow.

I put up a birthday wish for Charlie here.

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