30/08/2025
“Does he have aut-tism?”
A little boy asked me in the park today. Just a few moments earlier Tommy had been on the roundabout with him. The boy had pushed it faster, Tommy slowed it down with his feet.
He looked up at Tommy, said something to him that I couldn’t quite hear. Tommy smiled, said nothing, and ran off.
I could see the little boy processing what had just happened, wondered what he was thinking as Tommy hadn’t replied. I prepared myself to step in and explain.
It’s not the first time. For years we’ve navigated playgrounds, awkwardly at times. Tommy either not following social cues or sticking to social norms. Playing differently, unable to reply whenever another child would speak to him.
I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s stood at the top of a slide whilst a queue formed behind him, and I’ve tried to get him to come back down. Tried to explain to the confused kids behind him that he’d just be a minute.
Or tried to make sure that the sand he loves to flick and feel between his fingers didn’t get too close to anybody else.
Tried to ignore, or deflect the stares and the comments. Sometimes from other kids. Sometimes from other parents or grandparents. Seemingly put off by difference. By autism. With Tommy being 14 now, twice the size and age of most kids in the parks and playgrounds, the stares happen more often.
“Does he have aut-tism?” the little boy said looking up at me.
“He does” I said smiling back at him, “how did you know that?”
“My friend in my class has aut-tism. He has a little bit of aut-tism, and we play at school, and he’s one of my friends.”
I explained that Tommy doesn’t talk, that he wasn’t ignoring him. The boy nodded. “I love talking,” he laughed, “I can’t stop talking!”
Then off he ran, happy as anything. And I smiled too.
Because it reminded me that acceptance isn’t complicated.�It’s not hard. It’s not special. It’s just kindness.
And if a 7-year-old can get it right, maybe the rest of the world can too. ❤️