‘Tis the season for giving gifts, and my children are on the lists of grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. I receive cheery phone calls: “What do your kids want?” and then I am stuck.

My kids don’t play with toys. Not really. They like to collect toys. They have neatly labeled storage bins/baskets in their rooms: Pokemon, Neopets, Polly Pocket, Spiderman, purses, toy shoes, trucks and cars. (I could go on…) New toys are accepted enthusiastically, and then placed in the bin. Most never come back out. My home is the toy equivalent of Attica or Sing Sing. Buzz and Woody should launch a rescue mission, because these toys committed no crime, they were simply purchased for children with no real play skills; an Aspie and an Autie. They are truly Lost Toys.

How can you explain this to relatives when they make those calls? Really, sometimes I wonder why bother to explain all this to Grandma right then, because Grandma is only half-listening. She never really understood this Autism thing. She thinks it’s somehow my issue –that my kids are fine, really (although she won’t be left alone with them) and her mind is wandering. What to buy for Cousin Tommy and where the heck is the plumber? She just wants a short answer: “So what should I get?”

There is no short answer.

I can’t justify spending (anybody’s) money on toys, just to have them languish, counted but unloved, in Toy Attica. I don’t derive any pleasure or benefit from knowing that my son has 45 un-played-with Pokemon toys. He derives some pleasure from that knowledge, but no real benefit.

There is one notorious non-toy holiday gift: Clothes. That one I dread more than any. You know, I never thought of clothes as a gift. They are a utility item. A necessity. I still remember the crushing blow I felt as a child whenever I excitedly opened a pressie to find a sweater or nightgown inside. Also, choosing SID (Sensory Integration Disorder) friendly clothes for my kids is a black art which my husband and I both practice, but haven’t fully mastered. No clothes here, thanks very much. We would be more appreciative of a poisonous snake (well, my son would be, anyway).

So no toys and no clothes... What to get these kids? There are lots of things my kids want and need: Therapeutic horseback riding lessons, a swing set or trampoline, private clinical OT, an enclosed swing… These just can’t be picked up in Wally world, wrapped up prettily and placed under a tree. Come to think of it, none of them are cheap, either... Relatives don’t always think of these things unaided and it is not easy to ask someone to fork out for something which is so expensive. Our families are not rich. The riding lessons alone are almost $100 each, so even one lesson is a big gift, expended in an hour (The wait list for ‘free’ lessons is over a year in our neighborhood).

I started to ask for money, which I can put towards these things. Yes, I know it’s not very festive, but my deep in my little peasant’s heart, I knew it was the best thing to do for all concerned. It is the easiest too, once people resolved their hang-ups as regards giving things and resolve to give gifts.

So what is a gift, anyway? The definition I have always used: “It is something a person really wants, but would not (could not) buy for his or her self”. We could probably alter that definition for a child, particularly a Spectrum child, who may not crave anything practical or even feasible. For my kids; I have changed the definition to “Something he/she really would love and benefit from”. I have a feeling, that in our overscheduled, jam-packed lives, gifts have somehow morphed into “Some thing I have to buy for “x”, "y”, and “z” because it is the social norm. It is expected, and I will look bad if I don’t do it”. So a gift becomes a chore. An item to be crossed off of a full to-do list. A box in need of a check. (Hmmmm. Hold that thought..)

Maybe there is an easier answer:

I have an NT friend, a struggling writer, who about seven years ago, threw tradition, gentility, and decorum to the wind, and organized her friends to ‘club together’ each year on her birthday for a single big-ticket gift. Her reasoning was simple and compelling: “You all love me, and will all spend between $20 and $50 on a nice gift, which I may love, but won’t really need and will use only occasionally. How many purses, bath oils and scented candles can one person use, anyway? But I really need a new printer, which will cost $250 and I can’t afford to buy for myself. So if you all chip in, you can buy that for me, I would be very grateful. It is a gift I will use everyday and will love”. So we did. And most every year since then, the members of the ‘birthday club’ collaborate on a gift for her. It is a neat solution. Because she chooses the gift, we know she will love it. Dilemma solved. The only small drawback: We argue over who will purchase / assemble / transport the gift, because everyone is now very happy to pony up a cheque and cross her gift off their todo list.

With my friend’s scheme in mind, we are now setting up a more formalized version of her system for our kids’ gifts. We are setting up a fund for the big-ticket stuff. Relatives place money in the fund, instead of giving gifts, give a card with a “certificate” of donation to the fund. We match donations 1 for 1, and keep records. When the lessons or the swing set materialize, we will be able to tell the kids exactly who it’s from. This is an acceptable solution in our case, as most of our relatives live far away, and wiring money /sending a card is far easier than shipping gifts. Hey, it’s a good solution for closer relatives too; one less ‘thing’ to buy. We plan to track the fund with the kids, to measure how we are progressing towards the current goal. There are lots of good lessons for them to learn here. It may seem cold to some people, but It rather be cold and have happy kids than add new unloved toys to current collections.

This solution might be a harder ‘sell’ for a person with family nearby, but not impossible. I honestly think that Grandmas everywhere (OK with a few precious exceptions) will understand and be happier to really contribute more than bits of plastic, metal and glue to their grandchildren. I think the key is in the pitch and the presentation.

Now all this is not to say, that if my son suddenly decided he wanted a flash new toy from Hasbro, I wouldn’t delightedly call grandma or Uncle Mark to put it on their shopping list. I would (or I could just buy it out of the fund and put Grandma’s name on it). Heck! I would probably skip merrily down Toys R Us and buy it right then and there! However, if this new toy is the start of a new collection; then it would remain a collection of one.

Paula Rice
Staff Writer
APOV on Autism
Paula can be contacted at Paula