Chloe fidgeted one more time. So far, so good. Courtney was doing much better than she thought she would with the pressing throng of children, the noise and the strange smells of close to one hundred adults. But she was ever vigilant. Even at events for special needs children such as these they were always out of place because Courtney did not fit the mould.
Her daughter was not the dull, but adorable, loving and pliable child that most people associated with disabled children. Courtney was considered trouble, loud, incorrigible and disrespectful in a society that valued the pretense of good manners more than it valued its children. Chloe shook her head, 'stop borrowing trouble,' she chided herself as she watched her daughter wait patiently in the queue for once. She smiled as she noted her shifting from foot to foot. Well, as patiently as her high functioning autism allowed anyway.
But this was worth it. Mister Tumble would be here. And he was Courtney's favourite Cbeebies character. Chloe's secret crush too if she would admit it. She knew how pathetic that made her when the only man she had been attracted to in almost three years was a balding, middle aged actor with a paunch around the middle who had made a man for himself by portraying a clown on children's television. But when your whole life is your child, twenty-four seven, three hundred and sixty five days a year...for life. Well, you spend a lot of time watching children's television.
"Isn't he just yummy?" Chloe turned at the sound of the vaguely familiar voice behind her. It was Lizzie, another single mother that she had met through the centre for special needs children and their families that was hosting this Christmas party. They had both attended the parent support group for autism but like most of the other parents in that group Lizzie's son was more severe on the Autistic Spectrum. He was the typical quiet, withdrawn, hand flapper that society had almost 'accepted' as different.
But Chloe and Courtney were different even from these people who were different. And that isolated them. They had not even been to the centre in months. But when they received the invite with the big picture on the front of Justin Fletcher, aka Mister Tumble, nothing would do Courtney but come to the party. She had begged and pleaded for days, promising to be good, something Chloe knew was actually beyond her daughter's capabilities. But she could not deny her something that meant so much. Besides when would she ever get the chance to lust after the man in person?
She reminded herself that he was just an actor playing a role. He probably could not stand children, period. Let alone one like Courtney. Despite what was said on the Internet the man was probably gay anyway. She nodded her head at the thought. Lizzie took that nod as an affirmation of her comment and launched into an animated and shrill monologue extolling the man they had all come to see.
The sound of her voice was getting on Chloe's nerves, what must it be doing to Courtney? Her daughter was especially sensitive to sounds and this room sounded like a bee hive even to her ears and they were no where near as attune to loud noises as Courtney. She looked over to where the children had been herded into a long queue by the staff. They were waiting to see Santa, just like every year. But this year, he had brought a special elf...Mister Tumble.
Chloe saw that Courtney was beginning to rock side to side where she stood. It was a bad sign when she began to display such classic signs of her autism. Chloe's vision blurred with tears as she realised that a meltdown was just moments away. What did she do? This meant so much for her daughter. But the stress was clearly more than she cold manage. The parents had been forced to the side, too many people, health and safety the staff had said despite her protests. So she had not even been there to coach Courtney through the rising stress. And now it was probably too late.
Disobeying the rules just as blatantly as her daughter would, Chloe excused herself and went to stand beside her child. She bent down and held up four fingers. It was a system that they had developed. A scale of one to five that allowed her daughter to communicate her distress without words. Courtney just nodded her head and Chloe felt the tears threaten to spill over.
Then just as it always seemed to...things got worse. The centre director came over, "Excuse me, Missus Ojawu, perhaps I did not make myself clear. Parents are NOT allowed in the queue with their children."
Chloe saw the beginning of the end of their world looming before her. Whatever made her think that they could do this. That they could actually attend the Christmas party without a meltdown. She was out of options. If she left her child's side then Courtney would proceed to a five...meltdown, volcanic eruption, to these people a temper tantrum but it wasn't. It was not a child manipulating them to get her way, it was a panic attack. And when her daughter had one the whole fucking world knew it.
She nodded and bent down next to her daughter, "Sweetie, you know Mummy said that if you had a meltdown we would have to leave, right?" The soft ringlets of dark curls bounced on her child's head as she reached out and grabbed her hand. That alone told her everything she needed to know about her child's distress level, Courtney never voluntarily held her hand, hugged or touched her mother in any way. It was one of the most heart breaking things for Chloe, not even having the comfort of a hug after a bad meltdown.
"Don't leave me, Mummy," her child pleaded. It broke Chloe's heart and set her resolve.
"I am sorry, Miss Jacobs, but you of all people should realise the stresses of this situation on the children. The noise, the lights, so many people. My daughter needs me right now," she tried reasoning with the woman.
But she knew even before she began that it was useless. This woman was always about the rules. Making the children follow her rules, all rules, whether they made any sense or not. How someone like her ended up as the director of a centre for special needs children said a hell of a lot about how this society treated its children, and its disabled.
The older woman crossed her arms, "The other children are managing. We cannot make an exception for one child."
Chloe looked up. There were just a couple of children in front of them now. They were so close. So fucking close to giving her daughter a taste of success. If they could just hold out five more minutes, they could see Santa, Courtney had her letter for him. Of course, she would not talk to him and definitely not sit on his lap. But if she could just give him her letter and meet Mister Tumble.
She plastered a reassuring smile on her face and crouched down beside her child, "Courtney, Mummy will be right over there. It is just a few more minutes. Less than a Minnie Bowtique." Despite years of trying, her daughter could not understand the ethereal concept of time so five minutes could have been an hour or a day to her. But she understood how long her favourite television shows lasted so they had worked out this coded system...A Minnie Mouse Bowtique less about ten minutes, Phineas and Ferb was fifteen and Avengers was half an hour. Chloe looked pleadingly at her daughter and prayed to a god that she no longer even believed in that they could make it through this.
