Connection Takes Patience
I take a lot of pride in being able to engage autistic children. It’s something I’ve worked really hard to learn over the years. I often say, half joking but mostly serious, bring me any autistic child and I will find a way to engage them. I’ve built a lot of confidence around that. Not in an arrogant way, but in a way that comes from years of showing up, trying things, failing, and trying again.
The other day a family came in for a consultation and the moment the boy walked in I noticed significant motor planning challenges and very low arousal. He started walking around the building, slowly moving from room to room, looking in the drawers and at the stuffed animals. I did what I usually do when I meet a new child, I followed him. Just observing and trying to figure out what might interest him. Sometimes engagement happens quickly. Sometimes it takes a little while. This one was taking a while.
I noticed he was scripting and acting out something from a movie or show. There was imagination there. A whole little world playing out in his head. But he didn’t really want to move his body much, which meant my usual go to of playful movement games wasn’t going to work here. So I kept following him from room to room, repeating pieces of what I could make out from the scripts.
Another thing I noticed was that every time his parents spoke to me or my husband, he would let out this loud scream. It almost felt like the outside noise was interrupting whatever creative scene was playing in his mind.
This went on for about thirty minutes. And I’ll be honest, there was a moment where a little voice in my head started talking to me.
Wow Ashley… you’re not going to be able to connect with this child. Maybe you don’t actually have the skills to engage this one.
That internal conversation hung around for a good fifteen minutes while I kept trying to show him in small ways that I was safe, that I was fun, that I was paying attention. But nothing was really landing.
And then finally, I noticed something I hadn’t before, a melody in the scripting he was doing. Just a small piece of it. I started copying the melody and singing it softly with him. The moment I did that he stopped, looked straight at me, and smiled. I knew I had reached him.
Not long after that he ended up laying in my lap and let me play with his hair while he continued humming and scripting.
Moments like that stay with me. They remind me that even children who look like they don’t want social interaction often do. They just want someone to understand the world they’re in.
When it was time for the family to leave, he looked at me and said “come on,” and gestured toward the playroom. He was telling me he wanted to keep playing. That moment said everything.
I think about how easy it would have been to give up earlier. To quietly decide this child was too hard to reach or that I didn’t have the right tools for him. Those thoughts definitely crossed my mind.
But connection has a funny way of showing up when we stay present long enough. When we stay curious instead of defeated. When we keep listening instead of trying to control the moment. When we stay attuned to the child instead of our own doubt.
Sometimes connection doesn’t come from doing more. Sometimes it comes from noticing one tiny detail, and stepping into the child’s world instead of asking them to step into ours.
Moments like this remind me why I love this work so much. Connection is always possible. Sometimes it just takes a little patience to find the door to it.