In the Doghouse

Here in the US, kids collect and trade Poke-Mon and Transformer cards. Right now the latter are especially popular items because of the recent release of a Transformer movie. These cards and movie-related things attract kids in the 6-to-12 year-old range, but by the time they're into puberty (and girls and cars and rap music), they've moved on. Certainly, it is rare to find almost-17-year-old boys still hung up on Poke-Mon toys and trading cards.

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My going-on-17 grandson is one of those rare birds. Last year, at age 15, he looked like a 10 or 12 year old, had not entered puberty, and was still several inches shorter than I am (I'm 5'6"). More importantly, he had not grown emotionally beyond that age, either. In fact he acted then (and still, occasionally) more like an 8-year-old, going on 4-years-old.

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My grandson is autistic, has Asperger's Syndrome. After a year of growth hormones and several months in a residential facility that helped him, somewhat, learn to control his responses to the rest of the world, Donovan looks and speaks like a young man of almost-17-years...sometimes...with much reinforcement and continual training at home. He knows right from wrong - as the rules apply to others. Like a lot of Asperger kids, however, he has significant difficulty recognizing that those same social rules apply to him.

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Which leads me back to the purpose of this post and the picture above. On a recent grocery shopping trip, Donovan was allowed to wander over to the toy section to check out the newest Transformer stuff. He was to go nowhere else and was to rejoin us in 20 minutes. (He wanders away to god-knows-where if left to himself and has gotten into trouble many times with people who do not understand about autism/Asperger's. Oh, the tales I could tell.) He was back with us in less than 10 minutes, having gotten sidetracked by the packs of trading cards that hang in the checkout aisles.

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"Nanny, I want these new card holders that fit into a notebook folder. I need them for my Poke-mon and other cards. Those old carriers are old and aren't as strong as these."

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Both his mother, who knows he has more than enough card holders in very good condition, and I, who had enough money for groceries and nothing else, said no, that he was to return them where he found them. His mother reminded him he was supposed to go to the toy department and nowhere else and that he had only 5 minutes left, if he still wanted to look for Transformer things. He left to return the card holders to their proper place. Daughter and I continued with our shopping.

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Time got away from us and 15 or so minutes later, daughter went to look for her son, while I headed to checkout. She found him on his way back to us, thankfully without some toy he wanted her to buy for him, which eliminated an argument - always a good thing. In fact, grandson was very well behaved, helped me unload the cart, spoke coherently and maturely to the cashier and didn't ask his mother or me for any of the candy these stores use to bait their checkout aisles.

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I volunteered to buy him one of his favorite candy bars (the small one instead of the supersized) as a special treat. (We don't eat a lot of candy in our house. Chocolate is not candy; it is health food. YES, it IS!)

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When I looked behind me to tell him he could have a Snickers bar, I noticed he was absent-mindedly jiggling his hand in the pocket of his shorts. I could hear cellophane rattling. My suspicions arose, so I asked him what he had in his pocket.

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Without thinking, he pulled out a small cellophane-wrapped package, which held something shiny. I asked him what he had and he said it was the new Transformer dog-tags. I knew he didn't have any cash when we came to the store, so I asked where he had gotten them.

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He quickly answered that some kid had given them to him, in the bathroom. "What kid?" He didn't know. "Describe him." He couldn't.

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Donovan, did you ask the boy for these?

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No, he just gave them to me.

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He walked up to you and offered them to you?

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No. I saw them in his hand and I told him they looked cool and he said, Do you want them? So I said sure.

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Something wasn't right. Donovan wouldn't look me in the eye when he spoke; his left leg started wiggling. I was beginning to smell a rat.

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Did you take these, Donovan?

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He denied having done so, but kept changing the story of how he came to have them. Daughter headed to the toy department to try to find where the tags had come from, because we both were convinced it wasn't from some kid in the bathroom. Donovan's story had developed so many holes it was leaking his lies all over his shoes.

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Long story short (too late, I know), I took him to the customer service department because he had taken the last package and there was no sales tag where the package had hung. Not only that, but when I asked to see what was in his other pocket, he said there was nothing there, but when I insisted, he pulled out a package of the latest Poke-Mon cards.

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I explained to the CS cashier that my grandson, who was standing right beside me, had something to tell her. Donovan repeated his story, adding more new details.

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I think that boy lied to me, he told the cashier. These might have been stolen.

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I agreed that somebody had stolen them, but that we were going to pay for them, which I did.

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The next day, after speaking with his social worker, Donovan admitted he had shoplifted the items and had lied to his mother and me.

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It was good that he told the truth, and we told him so. We also talked about the importance of trust in relationships, especially within the family, and that being honest, even when it might get us into trouble, is the right thing to do as well as the best way to keep trust strong.

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Nanny, I didn't mean to steal them. I just wanted them for my collection and I knew you couldn't afford them.

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So, we talked about intentions and actions, right and wrong behavior and how to make the right choices when faced with temptations. We explained that keeping/taking belongings/merchandise without permission or without payment is theft, plain and simple. He repeated back to us word for word everything we had said (Asperger kids are good at that) and gave us examples of how he would do things differently in the future. He has promised he will never again shoplift anything. I hope he will keep his word.

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For the time being, he is paying the consequences of his actions. Until we feel we can trust again he may not leave our sides when we are grocery shopping to go look at anything; one of us will accompany him wherever he goes when we are in the store. He also may not use my workshop again until he has worked off the cost of the items by doing odd jobs around the house. In addition, he had to cut up the cards and destroy the dog-tags and chain in our presence and give me all the pieces.

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Today he is cleaning up downed limbs and twigs on the property, blown down in last night's storm, then will cut the ivy and other vines off the barn. He will scrub the garbage cans before filling them and putting them out on the curb for pick-up tomorrow.

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To his credit, he is tackling these jobs with the maturity and responsibility of someone almost-17. No whining or complaining, just going about his chore with dignity and determination to do a good job.

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Maybe we got through to all the Donovans that live inside of him, from the 4-year-old who took what he wanted without understanding the consequences to the almost-17-year-old who nearly cried from shame when he had to destroy the things he stole. (What he doesn't know is that when he left the room, his mother and I cried for him. Life's lessons are usually hard, for the parents/grandparents as much as for the kids.)

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Uh-oh...the 4-year-old just came in to complain about the number of sticks in the yard. He's whining, a lot.

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Boo-bear, we need to talk.

(c) 2009 Photo and text Martha McLemore