Would it matter if I told you....

We took Mowgli and his sister to the zoo last week. Like every trip we take, it was the worst of times and the best of times.

The first 20 minutes were spent trying to convince Mowgli to interact with the animals (for instance the sea lions performing tricks) instead of trying to interact with the zoo's most dangerous (and hidden to most children) mechanical components. Mowgli's obsession, for instance, with the high powered diesel engine that runs the sea lion pool pump, his equally uncontrollable interest in the busted out AC unit sitting behind the food hut, or, my favorite - his love of the stagnant water filled, west nile virus breeding ground that is the zoo's "wishing fountain" (where I imagine the most frequent wish is something to the effect of "I wish that the CDC finds a cure for whatever it is I'm infected with now").

In his usual fashion though, once Mowgli realized that I wasn't going to let him mutilate himself or swim in disease-infested water, and once I had purchased everything at the food hut that was blue (Slush puppie, cotton candy, popsicle) we had a really nice time.

[Side Note: A special thanks to the new Executive Director of the Utica Zoo, who has made some modest, but important changes since she took over. Things are noticeably cleaner, stuff that was broken is either fixed or closed, and they've relocated (or lost through attrition) some of the less healthy animals to better facilities.]

He loves watching the sea lions swim, he likes talking about and watching the monkeys, and he loves the fact that he can just roam free and explore - that he doesn't have to worry about following a particular schedule or program.

That said, I can't help but notice the reaction that his behavior elicits from other parents and children. I suppose that I just expect certain things from him at this point, so I don't even flinch when he makes weird noises, or when he gets excited and starts the jumping windmill jazzercise move he's perfected (jump up with both feet, windmill your arms as many times as possible before landing, and then flap hands while standing back up from a crouching position). But I do notice that other people see it, and I suppose that it is natural for them to have a strange reaction, after all, it is a little weird.

What I struggle with everyday is whether or not I should explain his behavior to people, or if I should just let it go. I'm confident that his condition is no one else's business, so it isn't an issue of whether or not other people are happy/comfortable with his behavior. What bothers me is whether or not I am doing him a disservice by telling people or if I'm doing him a disservice by not telling people. In other words - would his life be easier if people knew ahead of time? I've also thought about buying these specialized business cards that explain what's going on, or purchasing 30 or so t-shirts for him to wear like the shirt to the right, which actually captures my thought process in these situations.

In the end though, my concerns that I'm introducing him to people as a condition rather than as a person overwhelms my urgency to try and make the world an easier place for him. There is no guarantee that telling people will make them any less ignorant in these situations. Additionally, there's no reason to believe that things would be any easier for him if everyone knew ahead of time what to expect. In fact, I knew exactly what to expect from him when we got to the zoo, and yet I spent the first 20 minutes astonished at just how bad the day was starting, and equally as surprised that the day turned out to be such a success after it had started so poorly.

Mowgli's condition exists regardless of people's knowledge of it, and likewise, people's knowledge of it will not change or improve his condition. With that in mind, I'd rather let people figure things out for themselves and judge (or not judge) as they choose fit. Though he needs to learn to be an active participant in society, and though we are working everyday to make that a reality, I want him to do so on his own terms, and I want that participation to be colored not by the world's varied and oft-confused understandings of Autism, but by Mowgli's infectious personality, gorgeous smile, and insatiable interest in exploration and discovery.