We arrived early for the playdate at our favourite park. Our friends hadn’t arrived yet. We planned to play, picnic, and walk in the woods nearby. When we lived in Ebbw Vale, we drove to this particular park frequently. It worked well for our family because it is completely fenced in, with public toilets, green space, and play equipment suitable for our girl’s ages. There is also access to the woods directly from the park.

I noticed the gate by the road was left open so I made sure to shut it as we went in. I didn’t want Bethany to bolt as she sometimes does,  especially with the danger of the road nearby. 

The children began to play on the equipment as I looked around. The grass was green after recent rain and the weather was perfect with blue sky and sunshine. It was one of the best days we had enjoyed all summer. I noticed a slim girl, about thirteen, with dark hair wander back over to the gate I had closed. She propped it open again. As a mother of a child with special needs I felt slightly annoyed. Why had she done that? Then I realised there was a lady going back and forth between her car and the litter bin, evidently clearing all the rubbish from the car. 

Bethany wandered over to the climbing frame and climbed the steps. I followed her over and realised that she was navigating how to get past an older girl who was laying down on the lower level of the climbing frame and playing with an excessive amount of Shopkins. She was stocky, with dark hair, and about eleven years old. It struck me as a strange place to lie down and play. It was a bit inconvenient although it didn’t seem to bother Bethany as she climbed over the girl.

At that point, the older girl came over and spoke to the girl who was lying down. They were clearly sisters. The older sister pleaded with the younger one. “Please come now. It’s time to go. Mummy is waiting.” There was something I recognised in the girl’s face and in her tone of voice. The weariness and frustration was written in her eyes. The younger girl ignored her sister and carried on playing.

It all made sense now. Autism was at play. I knew the dynamic. I could see the struggle in the older sister’s eyes. The younger sister seemed oblivious as she carried on playing.  She would come in her own time, only when she was ready. It was a dynamic I knew only too well.

The mother, had finally finished clearing rubbish from the car. She looked exhausted as she came over and successfully persuaded her younger daughter to come. The older girl gathered up her sister’s toys and followed them back to the car. 

The interactions hit me like a gut punch. I had been internally annoyed by the girl propping the gate open. I had been internally frustrated by the other girl lying down in Bethany’s way on the climbing frame. I didn’t initially realise what else was going on, and I only figured it out because we live that Autism life too.

Lying down in inconvenient places is something Bethany does frequently. I think she does it as a coping mechanism. It doesn’t matter where she is; she will lie down on the floor in everybody’s way. She has laid down on the floor in public toilets, motorway service stations, Burger King, and the entrance of supermarkets. Even if the floor is filthy she will still lie down. On these occasions Bethany will only get up and move when she is ready. Occasionally a distraction will work to get her moving, but normally I just have to wait until she is ready. 

The interaction at the park last summer was like a vision into the future. Bethany was five that day, and heavy to lift. At ten or eleven years old it will definitely be impossible for me to move her. And I will need passersby to be gracious and forgiving to us when we cause them an inconvenience. But will they be gracious and forgiving? Will they recognise when a disability is making things difficult for an individual or a family? Or will they just get irritated with us?