My son isn’t naughty. He’s autistic. Sure, he’s mild, but a lot of his behaviour can be explained by the fact that his brain works very differently from the average seven-year-old.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
On Saturday during soccer my son punched the coach’s son deliberately. Horrified, I pulled him off the soccer field and asked him why he’d done it.
“Because the ball was kicked to me and he kicked it and it wasn’t for him.”
Autistic or naughty?
Or both?
I sat Giovanni down and told him not to move and raced up to the poor little boy who had been struck and who was crying. You couldn't make a nicer boy that this little one. He is lovely, lovely, lovely.
I was mortified, more so when both of his parents went out of their way to console me.
They were aware of Giovanni's autism diagnosis and they are two of the loveliest people I know. They said it was okay and urged their son to forgive Giovanni.
Gosh, I appreciated their efforts so much but I kept picturing them all driving home after the game, explaining to their poor little boy that Giovanni is autistic and doesn't always make the best decisions.
"Yes, he hit you deliberately but he didn't mean it. His brain works a bit differently. We have to cut him some slack," I imagined them saying.