Tonight, my 11 year old had a sweary, angry fit at being told it's bedtime and that he can't watch Iron Man. His little brother, the born peace-maker, has been crying his heart out for the last half-hour, cuddled up on the sofa with me.
While we cuddled I asked him how he felt. As this is from memory, the wording is not 100% accurate, but it's basically what he said between the hiccups and the tears:
"I wish that M. wasn't like this. I wish he was like he was when he was little, when he was really generous. I wish his autism was kinder."
"I wish he didn't get so crazy. I wish when he was born he had no autism & was just a normal kid""
"I wish I had a different kind of brother, with a different name & a different personality. This isn't how he's supposed to be. My big brother should be strong and nice and look after me."
When things calmed down and I took him up to bed for a story and a goodnight kiss, he clung on so tight I struggled for breath and whispered "I didn't mean what I said about wanting a different brother. I just want to have a happy family, like we do when M's autism is quiet"
When I checked on him five minutes later, he was asleep, the tears still shining on his face.
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