Random Acts of Autism

The doctors we trust have mixed opinions on this subject, but the closest diagnosis they can agree on for Keelie is Autism. I myself haven't totally been in agreement with this diagnosis; she just doesn't fall into the stereotypical picture of autism. That is until she commits what I am beginning to call a random act of autism. 

Take, for example, yesterday's trip to the store. As we pulled out of the driveway and started down the street, Keelie looked out her window and saw her favorite of all of God's creations: a tree. "Twee!" she chimed excitedly from the back seat. I smiled to myself and said to her reassuringly, "Yes, Keelie, that's a tree." Well, Keelie really loves trees of every shape, size and color; so all the way to the store, and, yes, all the way home she proceeded to notice every tree along our route. "Twee. Twee. Twee." She told us about every tree she saw. "Twee. Twee. Twee." ect. ect. ect. Now, I know we don't live in Vermont--technically Utah is a desert--but in our effort to beautify our environment we sure have planted a lot of trees. There is probably some technical word for this repetitive language Keelie uses, repeating the same word over and over and over again, but I'm going to call this a random act of autism.

Another example happened the other day while I was doing some basic chores around the house only to discover Keelie missing along with the kitchen garbage can. Where did I find them? Together, of course, sitting on the back of my leather sofa in my front room which was now strewn with paraphernalia from all around the house.

Sometimes these random acts leave me frustrated; most of the time they leave me laughing. Other times they leave me speechless.

Just today, as Keelie gestured for me to open the toy box for her, she blew me away again. She is really struggling to learn words to express her needs and wants, but we continue to work with her daily. Her vocabulary is limited and most of her words come only with prompting. I asked her to use the word "open" for her request. She refused and in her frustration she began to cry. I persisted and told her to say open. She continued to cry and gesture to me to open the toy box. Finally, she took a try at a two syllable sound that resembled "open." I smiled and cheered for her, and opened the toy box. What happened next nearly floored me. Quietly, but with a big smile she said, "dan doo." Thank you. I understood her. She said thank you.

Everyday she does something new. Everyday I am amazed and grateful for her victories--whether they be random acts of autism or not.