"But Mom, my favorite color is blue!"

I should know by now that trying to explain something to my autistic children, especially Brittany, using an analogy is a lesson in futility.  A while back, in fact, before Brittany was diagnosed, she was having issues dealing with how her friends no longer liked the things she did.  They were now interested in boy singers and actors like Zac Efron and Justin Beiber and Brittany just couldn't stand that stuff.  At that time, my younger two girls loved the books "Pinkalicious" and it's sequel "Purplicious."  For those of you who haven't had to read these books even once let alone a million times, "Pinkalicious" is about a girl who is obsessed with the color pink.  "Purplicious" is about this same girl when she is ridiculed by all the other kids for liking such a babyish color and she learns, thanks to a new girl in school, that not only is pink cool but that it is powerful too because it makes the color blue turn purple.  I thought that the lesson in "Purplicious" was very pertinent to Brittany's situation at the time and I read it to her trying to get her to see the connection.  However, when I pointed out how the little girl in the story didn't need to be ashamed of the things she enjoyed and didn't have to succumb to peer pressure to change her favorite color and hence Brittany didn't need to change just to please her friends, Brittany, matter of factly, told me, "But Mom, my favorite color is blue!"

Despite this obvious lesson that my child hones in on the details and doesn't see the big picture I am trying to paint with my example story, I still persistent using analogies during my little pep talks.

Tonight, I was trying to get her to understand the importance of following through with some extra homework her math teacher had given her so that she could improve her grade.  She was complaining that it was so boring because it was easy and it took too long.  And what do I do?  I go and switch to an analogy about practicing scales in music all the while Brittany is making some not-so-musical groaning noises next to me and complaining, "But Mom! This is math, not music!"

"Oh right!  Sorry, I forgot.  Brittany, you need to do it so how can I help make it not such a terrible thing for you? How about you have a piece of gum to help you concentrate?"  To which she brightened and went right to doing the worksheet.

So lesson learned (maybe).  I suppose that I will always be hoping for that perfect story that will teach my daughter a great life lesson that she will carry with her and maybe will keep her from making the same kind of mistakes in the future.  Wishful thinking, I know.