diagnosis

here is a picture of my boy holding a rather small morsel of bird. frankly, from a dog's point of view, this bird would be too small to bother getting out of bed for - no meat on it at all. my boy loves birds. he is the best chicken-catcher in the world. and as you can see he is a very gentle person, especially when dealing with little creatures.

not all beefburger people are as lucky as my boy. herself was listening to a programme on the radio the other day about a beefburger man whose life had gone very badly downhill because he had been wrongly diagnosed and given medication which sent him off the rails. he ended up in broadmoor, which is a decidedly uncheery place.

herself has a tendency to get rather annoyed at stories of autistic people being wrongly diagnosed. she and her friends who have autistic children can all spot an autistic person at 100 yards. they cannot see how it is possible to miss the fact that someone is autistic.

herself's autistic radar was demonstrated at the end of the boating holiday. we were just tying up the boat and getting all the kit off when another boat came into view round a bend in the canal.

"oh look," said herself, "some autistic people!" this boat was quite some distance away. the people were like tiny toy people. as the boat drew nearer we could see it was driven by a young man of about 18 with a frown and his hair tied back. at the rear was an older man with a very neat side parting. a boy of about my boy's age came bounding up to us as soon as they reached landfall.

"hello, my name is harry, i design video games, i've sold some already, is this your dog, did you know that dogs think we are snarling when we smile?" this last remark was accompanied by a demonstration of a fearsome snarl. this young man had not heard of personal space. herself backed off to get him in focus and nearly fell into the canal. my boy looked on in dismay. herself went on to explain that our household is also very geeky, whereupon the young chap said "will you adopt me, i hate my dad and my brother! can i come home with you? i haven't got any friends, no-one understands me!" my boy looked decidedly worried. he had not planned on bringing a brother home from his holiday. it was becoming clear that herself's autistic radar was yet again bang on.

my blog was discussed and herself said she would give the youngster her e-mail address so he could write to my boy. she got out her cards with the e-mail address on them. these are a variety of pictures and herself lets people choose which one they want. a card was duly chosen. herself explained that my boy is a beefburger person, thinking that this might elicit a response from the newcomer that he too was of the beefburger persuasion. it became clear that either he did not know he was or he was keeping it under his hat (that's a saying, readers - he was not wearing any headgear).

the peeps got in the car having said their goodbyes. my boy exploded. "mummy, how could you? 'this is owen, he's got special needs. pick a card, any card. come on owen, do the dance!' you might as well invent a game show for the tv called pimp your family!"

i thought this was a little harsh. herself doesn't usually mention my boy's odder habits unless there is some reason to. she explained that she had thought it might make the visitor feel a bit more relaxed about being so autistic. this placated my boy to some degree, but the replay of this little vignette is still forming a large part of his repertoire...