Where the Wild Things Are

And now, cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"

Like so many others, we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of "Where the Wild Things Are", coming soon to a theater near everyone. This has always been a bedtime favorite for the boys. For those unfamiliar with the book, the story tells the tale of a rambunctious little boy named Max, who feels misunderstood by his mother when she sends him to his room for his mischievous play. One night after getting sent to bed without supper, Max "escapes" to "where the wild things are"...an imaginary world of colorful creatures.

In this fantastical world, Max is crowned king and he and his fellow "wild things" spend their days and nights dancing and frolicking to their hearts content. In the end, however, Max longs for the love and familiarity of his family and realizes ultimately that there's no place like home.

Even though the book is obviously fiction, it is a story that resonates greatly with me. Because in Justin, I feel I have my own little Max. So very often, Justin lives in a world of his own. Somewhat above and apart from the rest of the family, he's just not always quite in step.

As much as this has often caused me times of sorrow and frustration, I can only imagine how it must feel for him. I used to think Justin would isolate himself away from us because he didn't want to be around the rest of us. Eventually I came to realize that for Justin, his bedroom offers him escape to where his "wild things" are.

You see, Justin's room is replete with no less than 30 stuffed animals (and one rabbit statuary he absconded from my garden...don't ask). They are not all his, many are his brothers. Yet if a stuffed animal makes its way into our house, you can bet that eventually it will find its way into Justin bedroom.

Often, Justin can be heard talking to his animal creatures, singing to them, laughing with them, making up elaborate scenarios of play that only he would understand.

("Take that", I say to the doctor who coldly told me, he has absolutely no imaginary play skills).

This is his "safe place" to deal with whatever scary or stressful feelings he may be experiencing.

At times, I have tried to join this wonderful world of play, only to be told, "Bye-bye". At times, I have felt oddly jealous of his wild things because they were privy to the cherished conversation that Justin is so stingy about sharing with us. Despite my feelings, this has never been a world that Justin has wanted anyone to share.

Until yesterday.

I wandered upstairs to find him, quite literally, buried beneath his menagerie. I asked him, "What are you doing?"

He answered, "You wanna play?"

WHAT?!

I steadied myself. Don't get too excited, I told myself. After all, you know he always gets pronouns wrong. He probably meant, "He wants to play".

Slowly, I turned to leave.

"Where you going?"

And there it was. There was no misunderstanding his meaning. He wanted me to stay.

And stay I did.

Together we played with his animals, making them dance and sing and rumpus like there was no tomorrow.

Because, indeed, I don't know if there will be a tomorrow.

That's the thing with autism. Sometimes these moments are a breakthrough. Sometimes these moments are fleeting. But at the very least, I spent some time playing with Justin in his world "where the wild things are" and it was intoxicating. I could see the allure of him wanting to escape to this place when he may be feeling misunderstood and perhaps doesn't even understand himself.

Here amongst the wild things he finds total acceptance.

But like all good things it had to end as real life beckons. I can only hope that more and more, Justin, like Max, will continue to long for the love and familiarity of his family and realize ultimately that there's no place like home.

And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.

Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.

But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go-We’ll eat you up-we love you so!” And Max said, “No!”

The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved

good-bye.

Where the Wild Things Are

by Maurice Sendak