A Tiny Trick of the Light

Isaac has discovered the kaleidoscope. No surprise, really, that he'd love it, turning it this way and that to see how the light and the shapes change. It's fundamentally appealing, this idea that if we shift our view just the tiniest bit, we can see something different and unexpected. Daily life works kind of the same way. Isaac is a different kid at school versus at home, at the grocery store and around town versus new environments. At home he's generally sunny, more verbal, open and engaged, while at school he can be quieter, more withdrawn, harder to reach. Out in the world, he tends to be curious and energetic and generally excited to see new things among the familiar (a ferry! a fountain! a bridge! a tunnel!) A little shift in scene, a big shift in mood, a different boy.

This afternoon, at his request, I took Isaac across a bridge, through a tunnel and to a small town a few miles north. I had had visions of a companionable afternoon spent meandering among the tourists, stopping for a slice of pizza and an ice-cream, throwing a few pennies in a fountain together before getting back in the car, back through the tunnel, back over the bridge, back home to Daddy. Not quite.

Now for the pop quiz:

In retrospect, I should have:
a) planned this outing for the morning, when he'd be fresher
b) given him lunch first and foregone the pizza idea, lovely though it was
c) gone to the ATM BEFORE we left the city (the reason for this will become clearer in a moment)
d) stopped with the expectations already
e) a, c and d
f) all of the above

The correct answer is either "E" or "F", depending on your particular pain threshold. Here's what happened:

Much enjoyment at the crossing of the bridge, followed by delight at the tunnel, followed first by mild-moving-to-extreme disagreement about stopping and parking the car, followed by lengthy full-scale meltdown, falling to the sidewalk screaming (I couldn't bear to raise my eyes to see if we were attracting compassionate or judgmental stares--or both), followed by brief respite involving eight pennies and one fountain, followed by slight improvement upon news that a bagel might be imminent, followed by extreme disappointment that trip to ATM preceded bagel, followed by agreement that slice of pizza would be better than bagel, followed by loud disagreement about washing hands in narrow eight-table pizza cafe (to kind and knowing looks by proprietors), followed by immediate satisfaction and calm upon receiving first a glass of milk, then a slice of pizza (thoughtfully cut up into child-sized pieces), followed by smiles and sweetness and quiet munching.

As Isaac was closing in on the last few bites of pizza, an older English couple came in and sat across from us. I caught the woman's eye and said, "Believe it or not, he was a screaming maniac about a half-hour ago." She smiled gently. "That's funny, I was just thinking what a well-behaved little angel he was." I thanked her, and we left. On the way back, Isaac asked if we could go into a toy store, where he picked out a replica cable-car as a souvenir. He held my hand peacefully as we walked back to the car.

Now, for extra credit: was it spectrum-based rigidity? Simple hunger? A combination? To find the answer, I guess we need to take a deep breath, shift the kaleidoscope and try again.

Comments

[Jordan]

You have so perfectly captured this afternoon outing - I feel like I was there!! It's so amazing when children switch gears like that; when they're in the angelic phase you can hardly believe they were "screaming maniacs" so recently. Sounds like you managed it well!

[jennyalice]

I realized recently that quite often my little monkey is the most well-behaved child in the restaurant... I cannot possibly let him wander from the table..since he might escape... etc. We have a rule "knees or bottom only" on the chair.. when Jake saw another kid walking around a booth.. he looked at me for an explanation. I found myself so irritated with this other family...how dare they have a child who can speak and follow directions and not provide the same guidelines that we work so, so hard on with our "special needs" child. Ugh.
I hope you got to eat some pizza. Cheers to your spontaneity too!

[jennifergg]

Can I vote for all of the above, again? :)

Lovely post.

[kristen]

I think I failed the quiz...and would have failed it my own life as well. It's just so damn unpredictable, isn't it?

I did smile (and even stifled a laugh) while reading, but trust me, I've been there—many many times.