Never…ever…not once…not even accidentally…not even when begging, pleading, threatening, tricking, persuading, bribing were involved…
has had never had soup. Until today. J had soup today. He just moseyed on to the kitchen counter as I was serving MY lunch, and he sat down with a spoon in his hand. I served a bowl for him. I thought we’d go through the wah-waaah ritual once he realized I wasn’t eating anything he likes. Spoonful after spoonful he ate…and then it was all gone, and he had the dregs of broth that were left over, tilting the bowl carefully to scoop it up with his spoon.
Soup was considered a “bad” food. It didn’t matter if we put noodles, chicken, dumplings, beef, pork, rice, potatoes in it. Soup was a wah-waaah food. No, wait…it was a WAH-WAAAH food…in Panavision, in color, HD, live via satellite, with Smell-o-Vision and an full symphonic orchestra playing the soundtrack. Soup was like Heaven’s Gate: huge budget, good cast, ambitious…bursting into flames with rejection and sordid criticism.
You might think I’m exaggerating. If you have an autistic individual in your household, try to remember one thing that is irrationally discounted without ever having been tasted, tried, seen, etc. That’s what soup has been for J. He loves Ramen noodle. Heaven forbid you should offer the broth that comes with them. He likes his noodles naked and hot. The broth (and I can’t disagree with him on this particular point) is quite unpalatable and will not even be considered as part of a meal. Pagh, pagh, and all that…
When J ate some yogurt last week (my yogurt, by the way,) I took it as a sign of progress attached to the absence of his molar. He was hungry, I told myself that night, and that’ll be the end of yogurt when the pain is gone and he’s back to his usual speed in chewing, etc. I have to say, I have not offered yogurt since, but now I think I might…just to be sure.
If I had seen him flap his ears like Dumbo and take off, I wouldn’t have been as stunned. I only shook myself out of my stunned state so I could take a picture. Unless I had photographic proof no one here would believe me. It’s like the whole forest thing…if J eats soup and no one but me is there to see it, it didn’t really happen.
It was a simple, thrown-together-at-the-last-moment soup. I’d made creamy tomato soup for Dada to take to work, and since it’s a cold day I figured I’d re-purpose some leftovers and a small potato to make my lunch. One grilled chicken thigh, some yellow rice, broth, herbs and a small potato got together and performed a miracle…ok, not a miracle…a wonder…a surprising event…soup.
When the Snow Day call came at 5 a.m. I wasn’t expecting anything special about today, but there it is: J FINALLY ate soup. Not just noodles, not just rice, not just chicken, not just potato…soup…and the broth that this entails. I didn’t even suggest that he try the soup.
This is, by the way, the same J who had to be paid five dollars (cash in hand) so I could take a shower earlier today without being escorted or “guarded” while in the bathroom. Maybe the next time I’ll just give him some soup and run to take my shower while he’s distracted… Perhaps we’ve turned a new leaf; perhaps soup has gone from Heaven’s Gate to Ishtar (or, as Dada says, if you get past the first twenty minutes, it’s not THAT bad.)
I now have options. What’s a girl to do with options?????