Autism, Park Birthday Parties, and a Magic Hot Dog

When you have more than one child per parent on an outing you really learn to trust other parents with the collective well-being of your kids. It depends on the location and the type of outing, but sometimes even when I have both children on the outer reaches of my peripheral vision, it helps to have other moms and dads around who will pick up the oversight when one of my kids strays into their zone. I instinctively return the favor, even for children and parents whom I don’t even know. That’s why, when this curious incident occurred, I didn’t skip a beat.

Yesterday marked the beginning of Birthday Party Season in our neck of the woods. I met most of my real-life local mom friends right after my older son, Kyle, was born in April of 2005, at a series of classes and workshops for new mothers at the hospital where he was born. That means that all the other new moms had babies who were born around the same time. Hence: the great glut of birthdays that start in January and continue through the summer with a concentration on April and May.

I brought both kids to this lovely party that was held under a shady tree in a local park: snacks, juice boxes, birthday cake, and a bouncy castle, and all was right with the world. The setup was also near the play structures, so both of my kids romped around between the castle and the climbing opportunities for three hours. They had a blast. I could only be with one kid at a time and of course the other kid would spring off in the opposite direction. Luckily all these other moms know my children well so I was comfortable letting them roam since there was a trusted adult in every area.

Brady was playing on one of those swingy bridges between a tower and a slide. Some bigger kids who were not with our party came along and unintentionally trampled him, but he’s resilient, so he kept at it. One of the bigger kids lingered. He was about 7 or 8, tall and skinny and serious-looking. He kept saying “Hello” to me but would not answer when I asked his name or if he was having fun. He didn’t make eye contact. He enjoyed swinging between the railings, over and over. I figured he was on the autism spectrum and I just went about my business with Brady, interacting with the boy when we were close to him, and not thinking a second thought about it.

Later, at the birthday party, that same boy came over to our party table with a plate of hot dogs and a bottle of ketchup. Without a word, he plunked himself down in a chair, squeezed out an enormous pile of ketchup a la the potato mountain in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and proceeded to eat. The parents looked around wondering whose kid it was. Since I had already seen the boy on the play structure, I guessed that he had left behind a worried parent who was now scouring the park looking for him. Sure enough, off in the distance I saw a frantic man asking people questions and looking around and I approached him and told him that there was a boy at our table that nobody knew.

This father’s relief was evident in the huge sigh and release of tension in his shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “He does that sometimes. He’s autistic.” I told him not to worry, that we were an accepting bunch, and that his son was not bothering anyone. He and his wife and younger son joined our party at the table and struck up conversations with those around them.

I guess I should have checked with the party mom for being so inviting. Just because I am of the “more the merrier” mindset doesn’t mean everyone else is. I also hadn’t thought twice about being extra sensitive to a family that has a child with autism. But should I be? Do they want people to treat them just like everyone else? If the child was not autistic maybe we would have all laughed, found his dad, and sent him on his way.

As it was I had to run off to follow one of my children and when I came back to the party the boy and his family were gone. The party mom asked them to leave so we could do birthday cake. I was surprised, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting only the invited guests involved in a special moment for her son. The strange boy left behind his plate of hot dogs. Of course Brady snatched it right up and started eating, which was the only thing that made him sit still all day so I could rest. Thank you, stranger.