When I picked the doll up from a sleepover some time ago, she approached my car carrying a white garbage bag filled with stuffed animals. “What’s this?” I asked giving a leery finger point toward the bag. “Stephanie is cleaning out her bedroom of stuffed animals and I’m taking them home.” Raising my eyebrows I replied, “Wha?” “It’s okay mom…no big deal” the doll uttered as she threw the bag into the car and prepared to leave. Looking at Stephanie’s mother I gave her a look that basically said “I’ll get you back someday…” then smiled, thanked her for the sleepover and drove home. The doll lugged the bag into a bedroom already overflowing with stuffed animals and added them to the mess, while all I could do was sigh.
“I read in the church bulletin they are looking for slightly used toys for the kid tent at the festival again this year..” I said in the doll’s general direction. “I know they made the same announcement at school” she replied. “Don’t think about asking me to give up any of my guys…” the boy threw out in our general direction. I’m not sure if this is typical with most kids with Aspberger’s or not, but my son is extremely sentimental when it comes to anything from his childhood. To even suggest he donate a toy wouldn’t be worth my wile frankly, because he would not be willing to do so. The doll on the other hand isn’t as attached. “Don’t worry Bay, I wasn’t talking to you…” I said before turning my attention back to the doll. “Do you think you might be willing to get rid of some of those stuffed animals cluttering up your room?” “Hmm….I’ll look and see…” She replied.
The doll and I have been caught in a test of wills lately. For some ludicrous reason, she believes, erroneously so, that she has a say in how things should go in this house. Needless to say, she’s been slamming her bedroom door in response to not getting her way-a lot. So last night, after I pushed her to go and put her pajamas on-earlier than she wanted to, she walked into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her-shaking the house in the process. As such I had had enough. Knocking on her door I opened to find daggers shooting out her eyes at me. Instinctively, I closed the door briefly as if to catch those daggers from actually piercing my skin. “MOM I’M GETTING READY FOR BED HERE!!!” she shouted at me. ” Doll….first of all, don’t SHOUT at me. Second, this is MY house. Your father and I PAY all the bills. While this room may be designated as where YOU sleep…this is still MY house and I will no longer tolerate you SLAMMING the door in MY house, do you understand?” More eye daggers ensued. “Please pick up all those clothes on the floor-I can’t tell which is clean or dirty…so put them away and also, you may want to consider which stuffed animals you would like to donate to the festival”. Watching her physically calm down I bid her adieu and left her to finish changing clothes. A short time later she emerged carrying a bag filled with unwanted stuffed animals and set it down in front of me before preparing herself for bed.
This morning as the boy and I prepared to leave for school, we stopped and examined the bag of animals. The boy reached in and grabbed a “baby walrus” to keep. “I can’t believe she’s throwing this one away-we used to fight over this one-all the time” The boy said, getting up to place the toy in his room while I mulled over her choices. Later while making the doll’s lunch I said, “The boy took one of the stuffed animals out to keep…” “I know, I saw it on his bed…” she replied. “How does that make you feel?” I asked, curious about her choices. “Mom, I don’t care-we used to fight about that one so if he wants it, whatever. But you must know there are plenty more in my bedroom. These I didn’t have much personal attachment to. In fact I don’t even know where some of these came from” she explained. “So you have a good starting point….?” I presumed. “Starting point? I think I’m good for now…but who knows…things change.” She replied.
Yes doll….they do….