If you were nine and your Mum, said: "Let's go to the beach! Just you and me, we'll leave the girls at home." Wouldn't you be a just a wee bit delighted? A chance to get Mum all to yourself for a bit and talk about boy stuff. Well not my little aspie boy.
"I'm not going :("
"I hate the beach!"
"I just want to stay here with my friends." (Uh they have visitors and you're going to have to leave anyway.)
With each exclamation his voice gets louder and higher, and he gets angrier and angrier.
I tell him we both need some fresh air and exercise, I plead, I threaten, I cajole, until finally he agrees to go to the beach for 1/2 hour. OK, so I've won but only on his terms. All the way down in the car he sulks in silence. But the second I stop the car, the door is opened and he's off.
Suddenly I have a different child. He shows me the 'best way' to run down sand dunes, and I show him mermaids' purses and razor shells. We walk down to the stream, and I demonstrate how to cross the stepping stones. We get wet and sandy and out of breath and laugh and talk and it was really great to spend time together.
But why did it have to be that hard? I rarely make the effort any more to suggest trips to the beach, or trips anywhere, cos you never know how bad the meltdown beforehand is going to be. Of all the issues associated with asperger's it's the anger that I find the hardest to deal with. And deal with it I must. The emails have gone out and the follow up phone calls will start this week. With a bit of help, we will banish Mr Angry together.