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James took an interest in presidents after memorizing the shape of each US state and territory. He knew everything about the ABCs, even figuring out at 22 months which lowercase letters are identical flipped over, and he could count to 120 before turning 2. He can also read about 15 words.
James is academically advanced, but if you were to ask for his name and age, you'd likely be met with a blank stare. If you said hello, he'd probably remain silent until identifying a letter on one of your articles of clothing. Then he'd say the letter repeatedly, well after you acknowledged his comprehension of it. If you told him goodbye, he wouldn't say it back until you were out of earshot.
There's a reason my son has specific areas of interest but is lacking in social reciprocity and cues: James has autism spectrum disorder, a recent diagnosis found.
Though I've enrolled James in early-intervention educational programs and speech therapy to aid his communication, I have no interest in changing who he is at his core. It's because of his neurodivergence that he's so funny, entertaining, and engaging to be around.
James quotes from movies and TV shows with the precise inflection, tone, and rhythm of the actor speaking, and he'll do it repeatedly until everyone is annoyed except the two of us.
This pertains to his echolalia, a disorder often seen in children on the spectrum that involves the repetition of another person's words.
Last summer, we were leaving a park when he proclaimed, "My name is Alyssa Callaway!" quoting Ashley Olsen in the 1995 comedy "It Takes Two." James used to recite lines from films all the time, using the emotion felt by the character to describe his own feelings. He might have borrowed an exasperated statement from Alyssa Callaway to express that he wasn't ready to leave the park.
I want him to express himself without having to rely on fictional characters, but I'm also charmed by this tendency.
It pains me to see my son observing children at the park, full of desire to join them but with no clue where to start. James' evaluating physician suggested we swap his presidents cards with Pokémon cards so he could be more relatable to peers. But I don't think flash cards are the problem, or that a different kind is the solution.
Before he can trade Pokémon cards, he must first feel comfortable saying hello to other kids. Then maybe the personality traits relating to his diagnosis — the movie quoting, jittery love for letters and numbers, and knowledge of US figures and geography — can help him find the sort of friend who'll be just as charmed by all this as I am.
My son's recent autism diagnosis was no surprise. He can name every US president and count to 120, all before the age of 4.
- I had to wait months to have my son evaluated to see if he had autism spectrum disorder.
- He knows many movie quotes by heart and can name every US president.
- His diagnosis explains many of the traits he has that I love about him.
James took an interest in presidents after memorizing the shape of each US state and territory. He knew everything about the ABCs, even figuring out at 22 months which lowercase letters are identical flipped over, and he could count to 120 before turning 2. He can also read about 15 words.
James is academically advanced, but if you were to ask for his name and age, you'd likely be met with a blank stare. If you said hello, he'd probably remain silent until identifying a letter on one of your articles of clothing. Then he'd say the letter repeatedly, well after you acknowledged his comprehension of it. If you told him goodbye, he wouldn't say it back until you were out of earshot.
There's a reason my son has specific areas of interest but is lacking in social reciprocity and cues: James has autism spectrum disorder, a recent diagnosis found.
We had to wait for an evaluation
The diagnosis came after we waited four months for an evaluation, as autism rates are on the rise and there aren't enough experts to go around. James started demonstrating signs of ASD — toe walking, gigantic reactions to changes in environment, resistance to haircuts, a sudden aversion to baths and swimming after previously loving both — shortly before the pandemic hit.Though I've enrolled James in early-intervention educational programs and speech therapy to aid his communication, I have no interest in changing who he is at his core. It's because of his neurodivergence that he's so funny, entertaining, and engaging to be around.
He can quote many movies
We have the same taste in family films, our favorites being "Home Alone" and "Dennis the Menace."James quotes from movies and TV shows with the precise inflection, tone, and rhythm of the actor speaking, and he'll do it repeatedly until everyone is annoyed except the two of us.
This pertains to his echolalia, a disorder often seen in children on the spectrum that involves the repetition of another person's words.
Last summer, we were leaving a park when he proclaimed, "My name is Alyssa Callaway!" quoting Ashley Olsen in the 1995 comedy "It Takes Two." James used to recite lines from films all the time, using the emotion felt by the character to describe his own feelings. He might have borrowed an exasperated statement from Alyssa Callaway to express that he wasn't ready to leave the park.
I want him to express himself without having to rely on fictional characters, but I'm also charmed by this tendency.
It pains me to see my son observing children at the park, full of desire to join them but with no clue where to start. James' evaluating physician suggested we swap his presidents cards with Pokémon cards so he could be more relatable to peers. But I don't think flash cards are the problem, or that a different kind is the solution.
Before he can trade Pokémon cards, he must first feel comfortable saying hello to other kids. Then maybe the personality traits relating to his diagnosis — the movie quoting, jittery love for letters and numbers, and knowledge of US figures and geography — can help him find the sort of friend who'll be just as charmed by all this as I am.
