A hundred moments in autism - Mini Me

Our autistic friend C lives in Belfast, so we rarely see her and had never met her family. She has one autistic son, indeed like many autists of that generation she was only diagnosed after her son’s diagnosis, recognizing many of his traits in herself.

Then, one year, we both holidayed in the same area of the UK, so we got to meet the whole family.

They had hired a canal boat for the week, and were passing through the town we were staying in, so we spent a day with C, her husband and their autistic son, aged 12, who had a name, but I shall simply refer to as mini me. Because that’s what the experience felt like, his every movement, enthusiasm, difficulty, quirk and difference were exactly as I remember my own growing up.

I have met other autistic children, of course, but to spend a day with one in the home environment was a revelation. I got to see a young autist, unmasked in a relaxed home environment, and it was akin to meeting a young version of myself.

I recognised his mannerisms, the brain-whir he goes through with every new challenge, concept or idea.  His speech patterns, enthusiasm for his special interest, his creative splurges where ideas would just stream from him.

Growing up I had no diagnosis of autism, I was just weird, different, not like the other kids. Yet mini me demonstrates that I was like other kids, other autistic kids.