God bless that little mustached Mario guy. You know, the little guy from the Nintendo games that many of our children with autism love so dearly. I’m giving that little rascal credit for bringing Carson in to the world of make-believe.
Oh sure, we’ve been working with therapists for years to teach Carson play skills. That may sound strange if you don’t have an autistic child, but for those of us who do, you know what I mean. Our sweet children take life so literally. A box is simply a cardboard six-sided container; a doll house — a small plastic replica of a home; dinosaurs — inanimate objects that sit nicely on a shelf.
For years the world of make-believe has been closed to my son. While other children joined together at playdates to build a magical castle made of sheets thrown over chairs, Carson sat alone, content in entertaining himself with the wheels of a car and more recently the Wii. While children gathered on our street to organize a game of cops and robbers, Carson chose to stay inside.
And then one day a couple of weeks ago, the door seemed to crack open. I heard him quietly talking to himself in the room over from where I was sitting at my parents’ house. I assumed he was entertaining himself with his DS game. Fifteen minutes in to it, I checked on him and was stunned. He had taken a bunch of little plastic Mario characters that he had received as a gift some time earlier and was playing. Yes, creating dialogue between the characters, engrossed in his imaginary Mario land.
“Don’t do that to my brother,” I heard him say. Mario was giving Bowser a firm reprimand.
“Carson, are you pretending with your Mario characters?” I asked, holding my breath as I awaited his response. “Yes, I’m pretending it’s Bowser’s castle.” Stunned. Simply stunned.
So, I have to give a big thumbs up for Mario and his wacky world of blue turtles, princesses named Peach and hump-backed, spike-headed dragons.
Many a time he had packed up a backpack full of toys to take to Grammy’s house. But it was just part of his getting-ready ritual, rather than signaling any real intent to play with those toys. This time was different.
Why now? I can just picture that little Mario dude pushing and pushing a heavy door in Carson’s brain, hoping to crack it enough to show him the magical possibilities of Mario world. One day, he gave it a final shove and it did the trick.
Three years ago we weighed the decision over whether to get a Wii for the kids. I worried whether it would be too hard for Carson to play because of his difficulty with fine motor tasks. And I didn’t want to spark an obsession with video games. Well, we decided to get one anyway and focused on picking games that promoted movement. Some time later, Carson asked for a Mario kart game and that’s where his love affair with all things Mario began.
He was Mario for Halloween last year, Luigi the year before. His favorite gifts for Christmas — the Mario sports mix game, a Kinex Mario race track, Mario T-shirt, towel and robe. Mario has definitely permeated this first grader’s brain. And judging by all the other Marios on Halloween at his school, he is not the only one!
One of Carson’s favorite things to do on the iPad, much to my chagrin, is to watch various videos posted related to Mario. Let’s just say some people have way too much time on their hands! Anyway, I suspect he got the idea of pretending through one video where a little boy showed his vast assembly of Mario stuffed animals and plastic characters, and acted out little scenes between them. In the past, it wouldn’t have triggered anything. But with a little divine intervention, he watched it when his brain was ripe to the possibilities.
So, this is my defense of video games and all things Mario. Yes, I would rather have Carson join in a spontaneous game of soccer with the kids down the street, or that he invite a friend over to play his favorite board game. But kids aren’t exactly knocking on our door asking him to play. He’s awkward in groups and lacks the communication skills to ask to join in the fun. It breaks my heart, but it’s the truth.
And honestly, he gets much enjoyment out of playing Mario. He has a couple of little neighborhood friends who share his love of Mario, and I pray continue to accept his differences. Nothing is sweeter than listening to them talk while playing their games.
Squabbling over who gets to be player 1. Laughing over the goofy “Miis” they’ve created. Talking about their favorite characters and race courses. Yes, it’s a beautiful sound for an autism mom who just wants her son to be just like any other kid. God bless you, Mario.
