Do trees fly?

"Do trees fly?" M asks and bursts into contagious giggles. "No, silly!" I say and tickle him all over. This is a game we play. A game he invented by modifying one of his programs from therapy. This particular game has stuck with him since the beginning of therapy. We are the lucky ones, our M is quite affectionate and loving. He loves to be hugged and cuddled, tickled and wrestled with. What we call a "sensory craver". He is often seeing slouching in chairs, draped over furniture, or bouncing on various items-like the dog. His autistic brain is wired in such a way that he needs that extra contact to "feel" things. Works to our advantage, I admit, for I cannot imagine parenting M if he couldn't stand me touching him, the way some autistic children do. I see this as one of his many, under-appreciated gifts. M knows the details of everything- especially how things look and feel. He memorizes the flower petals or the wings of an insect. He takes the time and pays attention to the important stuff. Even better is that HE defines what is the important stuff. M lives and does for himself-as most children do. I just hope he doesn't lose it as some of us do. We learn the written and unwritten rules of society. M will learn these, too, but somehow I believe his autism will keep him from succumbing to them. M teaches me far more than I teach him.
So for now, when M asks me "Do trees fly?", I'll tell him "They can if you want them to."