I blog about my daughter with autism, about her life, about her art, about funny stuff she does, about good times and bad.
I thought I might start sharing some of my entries here, as an effort to raise autism awareness. Often diaries on this site about autism seem to center around vaccine issues, which is a shame, if you ask me.
This latest entry is about the delicate issue of electronics use.
Visit her website to read more about Ellie, autism, or to see some of her artwork.
www.EllieCastellanos.com
Yesterday, I pictured myself in a flack jacket with NYPD or FBI written in capital yellow letters on the back. I was engaged in delicate negotiations which took hours of back and forth. I should have sent out for a deli platter, or perhaps some doughnuts, to soothe my jangled nerves. I imagined myself compulsively smoking cigarettes, waiting for the tense standoff to end.
Ellie had our Mac laptop in her room. She wasn't doing anything bad with it. She likes to film herself sleeping or playing or acting out little scenes with her toys. (There's one of her trying to film herself sleeping while trying to watch it at the same time. Hilarious.)
Problem is that she likes to combine her love of flim with her love of heights, which or course makes me nervous when our expensive machine is involved.
Like any good hostage situation, there is a hair trigger temper which could blow at any time, putting the lives of the innocent hostages in grave danger. In this case, the one in grave danger was our beloved Mac.
Please, Miss, don't kill the Mac, the Mac didn't do anything to you, you've got to let it go.
One wrong move and that Mac was toast. Toasted circuit boards.
So I spent the afternoon nervously sweating. Every so often I quietly entered the room, making no sudden moves, no startling noises. I even tapped on the door very gently before I entered, so as not to surprise her. Invariably, I would find her in her bunk with the Mac, or the Mac would be balanced every so lightly on a thin rail on the side of the bed, with the monitor at an angle so she could film down on herself on the ground, or perched on top of a chair. And I mean perched, like a sparrow on the slimmest of branches. Except that sparrows can fly if they fall, and computers can not.
I smiled warmly at her.
No need to fret, Miss! I'm here as your friend! I'm looking out for your best interests! You can trust me!
Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved toward the Mac and eased it down to the ground. "Ellie," I cooed, "the computer stays on the ground. On the ground." Again, a reassuring look before I silently retreated.
Ten minutes later, the same scene over again, except this time, I didn't say anything at all. I just moved the laptop silently to the floor, keeping eye contact with Ellie to psychic-ly convey my message to her. Then I tiptoed backwards out the door and closed it behind me.
Some of you may be asking "Why didn't you just take the flipping computer away from her?"
Good question!
To teach her responsibility, for one. And for the other, the little films she makes with the Mac are sweet and lovely, and she loves to make them. We showed her one of those tiny video cameras, what are they called, Flip or something? She didn't like it--she wants the big screen to film and watch at the same time.
She would never deliberately hurt the laptop. She loves that thing. So I'm trying to teach her the right way to use it.
You might reply, "But I remember the time when you had the same plan with your expensive digital camera, and you thought she was ok, but the camera ended up sailing over the second story railing. Remember?"
And yet, Hope Springs Eternal.
I won the battle, whether I've won the war I can't say yet.
The last three times I entered into the room to check, Ellie was playing on the floor with the laptop. When dinner was ready (food is always the best way to end hostage negotiations, haven't you seen the movie?) I called Ellie down and sent my covert operations wing (Nikos) in to abscond with the laptop and hide it away somewhere safe.
Someone needs to put me in for a medal.