Julia and Miles can be the best of friends when the stars are aligned. He still calls her "Baby" and likes to hug her. He likes to do the things Kindergartners like to do very often, however, so that makes them very likely playmates.
Sunday the toll of our family activity being nil because mom has been so sick was mounting so I gave in to pretty much every activity suggestion from the smallest one. Painting? Sure. PlayDoh? Sure. And with everything she wanted to do, there was Miles right with her. In fact the only upset he really experienced was when I finally had to put the PlayDoh barbershop away because tiny pieces of gross faux clay were just going EVERYWHERE and my prednisone fueled stress wasn't having it any more.
They played in her room, they played chase, in fact the best part is really just that they PLAYED. There's something so comforting about watching your special little guy do something NORMAL like playing, if you don't have that gap in your life I can't explain it to you.
At the end of our day while we were settling in for some evening family TV, Miles and Julia snuggled up together on the love seat, wrapping in each others arms like the best of friends. Julia looked at me and asked, "Mom, will Miles and Charlie still be autistic when they grow up?" At that point a Road Runner dropped an anvil on my head and I was struck dumb. I didn't know if I was going to cry, or cry, or cry. My husband walked into the room and carried the ball, and told her well they might be but you never know what science will learn that might help them etc etc etc.
You could tell though, it hadn't occurred to her that this is a permanent situation. She snuggled Miles up and just said OK, accepting the news far better than we ever did. I guess children have more bandwidth for accepting some things.
She also made a PlayDoh person with boobs that she asked me to show everyone.
So, now I've done that.
But yes my sweet little girl, they'll always be autistic. This might be it. We don't know. But I'm trying to be hopeful that maybe there will be something in our future that makes their lives easier and better, and ours. I don't know what that thing is yet, but I'm counting on science to bring it to me. And if it doesn't? Well that's ok too. I've got no issues with a 40 year old playing PlayDoh barbershop if that's the future. The dining room carpet doesn't mean that much to me anyway.