So how was your experience of 2020 and its miasma of misery?   Let me just take a stab at it…  Messy elections, stressed out economy, and the all-encompassing coronavirus ganged up to feel like an evil trifecta from a scary movie?!

Well, I’m not gonna lie, it was a little rough around here too.  For one thing, sharing a household with autism is a prickly business on a good day.  But living under the realities of the ever-fluctuating rules of quarantine…well, let’s just say that never makes for a good day.  Because the best buffer between us and the autism porcupine has always been the magic of ROUTINE.  But the only routine feature of life at the moment is constant and unpredictable change. Help!

Nonetheless, as difficult as autism can make life, sometimes it can also offer the gift of a really good laugh.  So as we fight through the seemingly endless frustrations of a COVID world colliding with an AUTISM world, I have decided I need to focus in on some of the humor as a salve to the many porcupine quill injuries of this particular stage in life.  And I thought you might like to join me.  So here goes!

When our daughter was about six, she had a fascination with teeth.  She loved to look at them.  She wanted to touch them.  She loved to talk about the fillings or other shiny dental work.  She was insatiably hungry to closely examine the wonders of the human mouth!   Okay, maybe a little weird, but not a big deal, right?  Except that she wasn’t content to just look at her own, or her family’s, or even the endless options available on Google images.  Nope.  She wanted to look at YOUR teeth — even if you were a stranger, a first class passenger in a very expensive business suit, kind of stranger.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Usually the person on the other end of the “mouth request” was a teacher or therapist.  And each of these blessed people were already very familiar with the request.  Some simply opened their mouths right off the bat to allow her a few precious moments of blissful examination.  Others worked it into the scheme of the day’s lesson.  “If you can finish this task then I’ll give you to the count of 10 to look at my teeth.”

Sometimes the request was a bit more awkward.  Once she cornered a very confused exterminator in our kitchen.  Another time it was the elderly neighbor from across the street.  “See mouth!”  she would demand, opening her own mouth as wide as possible to demonstrate what compliance looked like.

More than once I turned to see some helpless adult whom she had pinned down at church, looking around desperately for assistance as this small but fierce child grew increasingly agitated, repeating again and again, “See mouth!”  I would race to the scene of the hold up and try to explain that what she actually wanted was to see THEIR mouth.  Some immediately cooperated, just happy for the explanation and the newfound ability to please the little girl.  Others became awkward and anxiously looked for a way to get away from us, the bizarrely demanding mouth people.  Did I mention awkward?

But the worst episode, by far, was on an airplane.  It was Christmas time and we we were flying home for the holidays.  As we made our way to the cheap seats in the back, we found ourselves momentarily paused in the aisle of first class, waiting on those ahead to situate their belongings and clear the aisle.  In other words, we were trapped and I could see it coming, but was powerless to stop it.

Her eyes zeroed in on a polished looking businessman, as he sipped on his expensive first class drink in his expensive first class suit.

“Oh please, line!”  I silently pleaded.  “I’m begging you to start moving.  Something really unpleasant  is about to happen and there’s literally no where to go!”

She craned her neck towards her target, undaunted by my firm grip on her arm.  After all, this man was at her eye level and had no route of escape.  Moreover his dental work was undoubtedly fascinating.  She would not be denied!  Her penetrating gaze and lack of personal space were beginning to unnerve Mr. Executive.  A mixture of anxiety and irritation replaced his baseline look of sophisticated disinterest.  The determined little person moved in for the kill.

“See mouth!”  She blared directly into his face.

“Sweetheart, he’s a stranger, and we don’t talk to strangers, right?”  I sputtered, all the while attempting to physically drag her back from the man’s face.  Totally undaunted by the prospect of a wrestling match on a crowded airplane , the dental enthusiast fought back with vigor.  “See mouth!”

“Look honey, I have a snack right here!  Or how about this toy?  Wanna play with Mommy’s phone?”

There was NO distracting this child.  “SEE MOUTH!”

The line was going no where and the man was now glaring at me for an explanation.  Playing the role of reluctant interpreter I ventured meekly, “She’s really interested in mouths.  In fact, she’s actually asking to see…yours.”

In response, he offered a brief, forced smile.  I desperately hoped that the momentary flash of his pearly whites would suffice, for once.  “Look, honey!  I saw his teeth.”  I practically squeaked.  “Did you see them?  Wasn’t that great?  Thank you so much, sir.”

“See mouth!”

“For the love of God!  Is someone performing CPR in the aisle?!?!  What is the hold up?!”

Nervous laughter escaped as I apologetically attempted to clarify her relentless demands.  “She’s especially interested in seeing the inside, actually.”

We had reached our climax.  The audacious request was now clear.  Open wide and allow this little space invader to cross some serious boundaries.  The question now was, who would blow first — the small person with absolutely no sense of the socially acceptable,  or the big one who lived and died according the rules of GQ?

While everyone in the immediate area now looked on, the man at last realized that there was no escape — for either of us.   With a scoffing shake of his head and a sigh of exasperation, Mr. Powersuit-from-first-class tilted back his head, opened his mouth, and permitted a close examination of his dental hygiene. Loud proclamations about the “silver” inside added salt to the wound, but the worst was finally over.  The compulsive ritual was complete for the moment and the first class cabin could begin breathing again.  I wanted to hug him for not lashing out or publicly humiliating us.  But I thought I better not press my luck!