A Detour

We had a big family dinner at my mom's last night, complete with baked tortellini, stuffed zucchini, pork tenderloin, salad and fresh baked semolina bread, bowls of fresh fruit and olives. Anyhow, the usual big Italian family dinner involves many screaming children and controversial, animated discussion (Last night's topic: whose kid will be the most beautiful when they grow up. Yes, it got ugly.)

So anyways, there I was, plotting my revenge against anyone who didn't agree that my daughter was God's gift of ultimate beauty to the world over and above all her mangy cousins. (Is everyone BLIND???!!!) Suddenly, we noticed my 2-yr-old son Nicky had disappeared. For those of you who didn't know, Nicky is autistic. A very wise person once told me to think of it this way: most children are like cars on a road. They swerve, they adapt to the conditions of their enviroment, they change direction when they want to do something else. They can drive alongside other cars/children. They can stop quickly when they must. Nicky is like a train on a track. One direction. One destination. Can't stop for miles. He has repetitive tendencies, is very solitary and doesn't "get" abstract concepts, like "bring me the cup so I can give you water". He'll stand by the sink crying instead, unable to understand what the cup has to do with the water that comes out of the tap.

He has problems with speech, and talks in single word utterances. He can only identify items he sees ("CAR"!) but not items he needs but doesn't see ("water"). This is very unlike his twin sister who is a chatterbox and a master manipulator. On the plus side, she instinctively takes care of him. When someone gives her a sippy cup with water/juice, she won't leave until that person gives her one for her brother too. Same thing with cookies, snacks, etc. When Nicky can't find his blankie, Natalie helps me tear the house apart looking for it. When he cries, she runs around saying "Nicky crying! Don't cry Nicky! Don't cry Nicky!" She even gives him his pacifier to make him stop. She is a patient marvel with her 'little' brother. (Can you see why she is so beautiful to me?)

Anyhow, I was worried about my son, so I called him back to the living room, which never works but I never stop trying. (He doesn't come when called.) Resigned, I got up to search for the little escapee, when suddenly he comes tearing around the corner, his face ablaze with victory.

"Mommy, I got the grapes! I got the grapes!"

Sure enough, raised high in his little fist was a handful of grapes that he had swiped from the dinner table. It was his first sentence. It was the first time he had "helped" himself.

I suddenly realized that in the contest for most beautiful, it was a tie.