Autism, Family, Uncategorized

‘Twas the Night before Christmas

(the autism way)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Sawyer could hear everything – a clock ticking; a mouse
The stockings weren’t hung by the chimney with care
They were straightened obsessively, so almost thread-bare

His sister was nestled all snug in her bed,
While the world danced around in Sawyer’s head.
And mamma in her tired haze, and dad with nervous frown
Waited downstairs in anticipation, to see if he would ever slow down

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
Sawyer sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
Away to the window he flew like a flash
Any harder and the glass would have certainly smashed

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Made too many shadows on objects below
There was a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer
Sawyer didn’t see – he was already nowhere near

With a little old driver, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

And as he began to call his reindeer
I quickly placed headphones on Sawyer’s ears
The shouting was too much, and the notion was scary
That man was too big, and ever so hairy

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew
Sawyer could cope no more, he began to fly too

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof
Praying it would stop, and turning around
I saw poor Sawyer rocking back and forth on the ground

He was crying and shouting and pulling his skin
The sounds and the lights were too much to take in
A bundle of gifts he had flung over the place
And he looked like he needed some time and some space

His eyes-how they once twinkled, his dimples once merry
His cheeks now like roses, his nose like a cherry
His face was contorted with confusion and fear
The same as it had been the same time last year

The stump of a pipe Santa held tight in his teeth
As he gazed through the window, his face through the wreath
He saw Sawyer there and his eyes grew broader
It all made sense now – sensory processing disorder

He was lovely and kind, a right jolly old elf
And I was relieved when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
Quietened the reindeer, then turned with a jerk
And laying his finger aside of his nose
He dimmed all the lights, and up he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, but without even a whistle
Away they all flew like the down of a thistle
But I heard him whisper, ‘ere he drove out of sight
“Happy Christmas Sawyer, and to all a good-night!”

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