Grounded!

Doesn’t it seem sometimes like every parent you come across thinks they have perfect, angelic children? No such luck here. I have real ones. My children got into trouble, did things they knew to be wrong, pushed the envelope of parental sanity and paid the ultimate price – they were grounded.

My oldest, Christopher, could push the limits better than anyone. He was (and still is) an extremely bright boy. His teachers even suggested he was gifted and should be accelerated to the next grade. Since social ability was a big factor in our lives I told him the decision was his – he chose to stay with his friends. The problem was that he was bored enough to plan outrageous stunts and intelligent enough to pull them off. Of course, he didn’t have a naïve mother either and was caught red handed more than you would think. As Christopher got older and more cunning, Matt got older and more admiring. Christopher was his brother and no matter what, Matt always had his back.

Matt was learning some important lessons during this time; how to dress, how to form a sentence, and personal hygiene. I was teaching him these things, but observing his brother do these things gave him the added desire to learn. If his brother could do it, then he wanted to learn to do it too. Things I didn’t teach him, but he learned quite readily anyway – like how to play video games and use a computer – he learned mostly from his brother. He wanted posters on his walls and even started listening to music.

Matt observed how Christopher interacted with family and friends and animals. He watched him fix his own meals and buy his own “toys”. Matt watched him admiringly at wrestling matches, and met his friends and his girl friends. Of course, the love went both ways. You may recall that “no one messes with Matt”. That particular credo was first stated by his big brother - Christopher had Matt’s back, too.

Matt was around 8 years old when he first stepped in to defend his brother. I had grounded Christopher for something – I don’t recall what (there were so many). Matt stormed out of his room and marched up to me. “Christopher is NOT grounded!” “Yes, he is, Matt”. “NO, you don’t grounded my brother!”, he snapped back. Imagine, this quiet child who rarely ever raises his voice, arguing with me. He turned and marched to his brother’s room. Afraid to actually go in, he stood at the doorway and peered in. Was his brother O.K.? Was he hurt? No one would hurt his brother! He stood there a moment as if trying to decide if he should go in, block the doorway or let me have it again. He decided to let me have it again. The only way to calm Matt down was to apologize for having said that word. I am sure Christopher was secretly smiling.

It was unlike any argument I had ever had. Shocked for only a moment, I started to smile – my little boy was connected enough to another human being to fight for him. Were autistic children supposed to be capable of that? It’s hard to argue when you’re happy. I couldn’t contain my joy - which confused Matt. I laughed, Tom laughed, and snickers were heard from the bad-boy’s room. Matt calmed down. Anger dissipated. Life was good.

This became a normal routine. I would ground Christopher, and Matt would read me the riot act. Laughter would end it all. It was all just too cool! Matt could hunt me down, look directly at me for seconds longer than normal, and stand his ground on an issue he felt passionate about. He could defend another human being. He could clearly state his objection and did not accept compromise. This was the start of independent thought. He was thinking, feeling and expressing his thoughts and they were expressed with such emotion! How could this not be viewed as cool?

Over the years, Matt became more insistent that I stop using that word. Matt was about 15 years old when he really let me have it. Yep, Christopher was grounded again. Matt was furious and in no uncertain terms informed me that the word “grounded” was a bad word, a dirty word, on par with a 4-letter word and I was to never use that word again, not even in jest or casual conversation – not ever!

To this day that word is not allowed in our home. Matt must have related the word to the pain he saw in his brother’s eyes, or the anger on his face, or worse yet - imperfection. What ever emotion it connected too, it is as strong a connection now as when he first made it. We still abide by his wishes, not willing to upset him over such a trivial thing – the use of one little word. That particular word has new meaning now. It stands for independence.

While writing this I asked Matt if he still hated the “G” word. His brow deepened, an angry look swept over his face as he told me “Yes!” “Why do you hate it so much?” I asked. He gave me his most serious face, eyes staring directly at me as he raised his arm and pointed upward, “Because it will anger the Gods!”

So, there you have it. I am probably breaking Matt's rule just writing about it (I feel so sneaky - almost criminal!). No other word has ever elicited a response that comes near to that of the "G" word. Do I dare say it again? . . .grounded.