The Headless Lego

I wrote this short story as a creative writing piece for my Advanced Writing class, the challenge being to create a twist involving a lego piece! I hope you all enjoy!

Emma

My son is good with dates. You ask him about any specific date, and he’ll babble on and on about anything from the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte to the end of the Civil War, April 9, 1895 when General Lee surrendered at the Appomattox Court House. That’s his forte, dates, historical facts, memorizing things. Besides that, you won’t get very much from Mason. He won’t look you in the eye, he won’t play with other children, and heaven forbid the cafeteria food happens to touch on a rare day where I forget to pack his lunch.

November 10, 1995. That is the date I’ll never forget. I woke up Mason, I took him to the doctor, and before the clock even struck 12, my son was diagnosed with autism, and our whole lives changed. Now, soccer practices have been replaced with speech therapy three times a week. Monopoly and Trouble have been replaced with books about American history and historical trivia night, every Friday, at 6 on the dot right after Mason has his breakfast for dinner meal. This was what our lives had become, everything according to a plan. 

However all of this planning never prepared me for the day, the day when Mason would discover that he’s different from the other kids, the kids who don’t go to speech therapy, the kids who don’t know and don’t care about historical dates, the kids who aren’t autistic.

Last week…

I had just finished folding laundry and made my way to Mason’s room to put away his clothes. Balancing the basket on my knee, I turned the doorknob. The Uncle Sam “I want you” poster I had gotten him a week before hung on the white door, glaring at me. He had said “thank you,” but it didn’t reach his eyes, no matter how hard I tried to pretend it did. As I had made my way to Mason’s dresser, I stepped on something sharp, the edge of his legos piercing my skin. Upon closer inspection though, I noticed it. He had pulled out every single one of his lego characters and taken off their heads; Paul Revere and George Washington laid there headless on his blue carpet. Beside the headless legos was a piece of paper. Mason had attempted to write out his name, but the lines were all squiggly and he couldn’t get his ‘a’ quite right. I tried to contain my emotion, but Mason had come out of the bathroom, freezing in his tracks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Mason,” I stuttered,” why did you do this to your legos?” My voice cracked. He just shrugged his shoulders and plopped on the floor, Indian style. 

“So they can be like all the other legos. Now no one is better than the other.” 

***

I don’t know how hard I cried that day, behind closed doors where Mason couldn’t see. I cried for him. I cried for us. I cried over what he is, isn’t and will never be. It was as if all the emotion he couldn’t express erupted from my body and resulted in a puddle of tears. 

As I watch my son on the swings, my heart breaks just a little bit, not because he’s “stupid” or “retarded” or “slow.” My heart breaks because my son doesn’t even have one friend to swing with, his headless Abraham Lincoln on the swing opposite him listening as my son mumbles the dates of World War 1 under his breath. My watch alarm goes off signaling yet another speech therapy appointment and I make my way towards Mason. He had flopped onto the sand, drawing something with a stick as he flapped his hands, a habit he did when he was concentrating on something. As I approached him, I noticed his doodle in the sand. It was just another date. It was just another day. It was so simple, and yet it was everything. My son jumped up, his Elmo shoes he could never let go of smearing the date in the sand to an indistinguishable blur. But I will never forget those numbers.

…9/11/2001.

Author's Note

God bless our troops!
- John 3: 16

Reviews

[Jennie Baron]

Your story is touching and poignant. I don't know about your personal experience knowing someone with autism, but the story is very believable. And the Legos are a great anchor around which to build your point and bring the reader into the mind of the parent. Very well done!

That said, a couple of small things, in a constructive spirit:

"Heaven forbid the cafeteria food happens to touch on a rare day where I forget to pack his lunch": This sentence could use some rewording; your meaning is not exactly clear here.

Also, I suggest editing the last paragraph so that the verb tense is consistent.

[Nessie_AJ]

Thank you so much for your review! I think the hardest thing was to write it from a parent's point of view seeing as I am not a parent. I am exposed to autism but am not an expert so that took some research! As for your comment on the cafeteria food, it's supposed to depict how people with autism have to have things in order, exactly how they are used to and like. If things stray from "the plan," it sets them off, but I see your point and will work on the corrections. Once again, thank you! If the topic interests you, try to read a novel called House Rules by Jodi Picoult (if you haven't already). It's brilliant!

[Jennie Baron]

I have read a few works by Jodi Picoult and found them amazingly well written. I'll have to check out that one.

[A. H. Pinley]

A very moving story Nessie! Yes, God bless our troops!

[Nessie_AJ]

Thank you! And yes our military rocks!

[Riley Justine]

Awesome short story. Really touching and gives credit to those fighting for us in a different way. Really good job on this.

[Nessie_AJ]

Thank you very much!

[Mila]

Congratulations on winning the Need Reviews? IV contest!

Wonderfully written story that kept my attention throughout. Well done!

-Mila

[Nessie_AJ]

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

[Marie]

This is a fine story. Autism interests me.