A film I wish I'd seen earlier

You woke up in a wonderful mood today, though I would have much preferred it if you woke at 7am rather than 6. I took you to bed with me and Mummy, and we hugged for a bit. You have a wonderful habit of bouncing like a pinball between us both: five-minute hug from mummy, a five-minute hug from daddy, then back to mummy. I asked you if you wanted to watch Titch in Hebrew or English, and like a good boy you said "English".

Though it was Friday, Mummy had to go to work, so we took her over to her new office. I made sure Mummy said goodbye a few times but as we pulled away you started to cry and ask "where Mummy gone?". I slowed down and explained to you that she was at work, and we'd go and pick her up later, and you stopped crying and waved "Goodbye Mummy". I told you we would go to a playground and we went to the Winter Pond near our home. You were so happy and we ran around climbing and jumping. You're much braver than me, I'd never run over a bridge that swings like that when you walk on it. Still I weigh 85kgs more than you, so when it swings it really swings!

When we got the end you got to the "green slide", I asked you what the other one was and you said "lellow slide". It gave me so much hope, you do things that you are supposed to do, and I'm going to make sure you get to do them more and more. Eventually, after an hour, maybe less, you headed back to the car and stopped at the kerb. You were so sweet when you looked down, and said "cross the road". You always stop at the kerb, I'm so proud of you. I saw how other little boys just run out in front of cars without looking, you're very smart. When we got home we had lots of fun. I need to remember what a pleasure it is being your dad. You are the funniest, cheekiest little sausage I know. I never see other children laugh half as much as you do.

I spoke to Darren today about his girlfriend's son. He has ADHD. Darren told me he has been told that he is borderline Asperger's, whatever borderline Asperger's means. I spent a bit of time reading yesterday and the day before and I suspect that you might fit this more than I thought originally. There are some things that you don't do at all - you're great with change of routine and location, you're not at all clumsy, but it seems to be a series of symptoms of which several but not all apply. You have a large number of them, the narrow amount of interests, poor social communication with your peers, good speech and cognitive abilities, repetitive stereotyped behaviour. The doctors, I suspect, will not rush into any label, they'll just say you are on the spectrum and wait and see. I'm not so fussed, I don't mind which label they put as long as I can get to work with you as soon as possible. Darren told me that the disability allowance is around £250 in England, and that his girlfriend's son gets to see a psychologist every 6 months or so. I have a feeling that Israel is going to be a better place for you. The allowance is more in real terms - around 2000NIS, and certainly more relatively. The system seems to be set up better here too, though I will speak to the National Autistic Society in the UK to see what sort of help you would get if we went back to England, though I think even the fact that I would get more help for me here would make things better. Mummy needs to work, and I'll get help from Safta, and so will you.

Mummy did some research and the Alut Society in Israel has special nurseries that sound wonderful, one on one with experts. The one that is 5 minutes from us is full but maybe there is another not too far away and I can drive you there. We need to get the diagnosis though, and that will take a couple of weeks. Then we can speak to them and get some concrete information. There are other places too, and then in September the Council is obliged to send you to a special communications nursery where you will get expert help.

We drove over to get Mummy at around 1pm, and you loved running around her new office. Obviously, you went straight to the phone and called from one office to another, and you stole Mummy's boss's calculator. I put some empty cardboard boxes in the car so we can make a ship or a plane or both when we got home. It'll give me an excuse to be a kid again.

Mummy was delighted to see she works opposite Oasis now, the frozen yogurt cafe. We went in and you managed to negotiate some gummy bears. You wolfed them down and then we absolutely uncontrollable after. You just wanted gummy bears. You would sit and eat your frozen yogurt, and just ran around being really difficult. Eventually, we just packed up the tub and tried to get you in the car.

We took you over to Safta's for the afternoon so we could rest and talk. Mummy was exhausted and I am becoming more and more convinced that you need more full-on interaction, I feel a little uncomfortable leaving you to your own devices the more I think about it. We decided to watch a movie that Mummy had already seen a while ago, and we had been wanting and not wanting to watch for ages. It was called "After Thomas", it's the true story of a little boy called Kyle with autism whose parents got him a dog which helped him connect to his family and the world around him. He called him Thomas because Thomas was his favourite toy, not unlike my little man. There were lots of other things that made me think of you, they way he dropped to the floor for one, the way we call you and you don't look round, the way you ended up being on your on in nursery. But Kyle was much more severe than you, he never laughed or smiled. You talk non-stop in comparison. He was older, in a time when very little was known about autism, and he made such a huge leap with the help of his Golden Retriever. I was all shaken up after the end of the film, and Mummy asked me how I was feeling. Quite the most impossible and ridiculous question I have ever been asked maybe. I just couldn't even think about what an answer would sound like. I just started to cry. I'm not sure what I was feeling, or maybe it would be closer to say I wasn't sure what I wasn't feeling. My emotions were all over the place, I just felt so absolutely desparate. And sad, and angry, and heartbroken, and guilty, and frustrated, and frantic. And in it all, I still loved my little boy, and the film made me think that we could climb the biggest mountain together. It gave me hope that if something as simple as the love of a dog could open such a firmly closed door, then what me and Mummy have for you could smash straight through it like a sledgehammer. But while I work out the things we need to do, maybe we should get you a puppy.

We picked you up from Safta's, and brought you home. You were exhausted. I went to make coffee for me and Mummy and you cuddled up to her. I came back with it and you were sound asleep hugging her. We left you there for a bit, you have the loveliest cuddles.