Classic autism seems rare compared to other spectrum disorders, like Asperger's Syndrome.
Staving off sleep and insanity during my daughter's nutty nocturnal episode, I scan Facebook and read blogs by other beleaguered parents in search of company.
The house is dark save for the glow from my iPad and the light from her laptop, which plays “Sesame Street”’s Slimey’s World Games for what may well be the billionth time. I barely exaggerate, as she’s no kid and has loved it for decades.
She's 23 and I'm 60, for god's sake, too old to be up all night trying to convince my daughter it's bedtime. Or at least to stay IN THE HOUSE.
If she didn’t have classic autism, she’d understand why we won’t be going out at 3:30 AM. She’d stop pointing to the door and saying “That way,” hoping to resume daytime fun in the middle of the night. And I wouldn’t have to stay up with her guarding against some potentially catastrophic event, like her just walking out. Autism parents call that “elopement” and it’s over my dead body that she’ll walk out that door unsupervised, which is why I decide to quaff some coffee. There’s no nodding off for me tonight.