JACOB AND THE TECHNICOLOUR TV
By Eirene Hogan
Jacob loved watching TV.
He was not supposed to, of course, he was supposed to climb trees.
You need to get him out and engage his mind. Don't let him vegetate in front of the tube.
So I did. I got out card games and board games, Lego and cars. He lined the cards up in numerical order. He was frightened of the snakes in the snakes and ladders. He couldn't put the Lego together and screamed when I tried to help him. He picked the cars up and spun the wheels, watching them closely as they twirled. He ignored me when I tried to play races with them.
I gave up and left the room to read a book. He went back to his TV.
When I came back he had placed a magnet on top of the TV - it changed the colours on the screen. I screamed, "don't do that" and whipped the magnet off. The colours didn't go back to normal. I yelled at him, he sat with his hands over his ears, rocking.
I rang a TV repairman. When I returned, Jacob had placed the magnet on the TV again.
"DON'T DO IT!" I yelled.
He screamed back, "BUT I WANT TO."
I switched the TV off. "You can't watch the TV anymore, go outside and play." He just stared at me. I opened the outside door. He didn't move. I tried to drag him outside. "No, no, no." he cried. So I left him there and went into the lounge room to try and calm my nerves.
The TV was switched on again. I huddled in the chair and cried.
Mr TV repairman came. He asked how it
happened, why Jacob did what he did. I
translated that to mean; why did you let him do it?
I shrugged. "He's autistic."
No one knows what to say after that.
Finally he said, "I'll have to take the TV away to be fixed."
Jacob cried on his special chair for two hours. I eventually got the portable TV out of the main bedroom. Immediately Jacob put the magnet on it. I went back to my chair and cried. Why hadn't I hidden the thing?
The next day was Saturday. Jacob did play outside, in the sunshine. David took the portable TV to the TV repairman. I went outside to find Jacob and try and tell him. He was holding a piece of coloured cellophane up to the trees. He took no notice of me.
Helen came to visit; she has an autistic son too. I told her the story and she nodded. "All you need to do is wave the magnet in front of the TV and it will go back to normal."
I could only laugh hysterically. "Thanks."
By evening the TV was back, the magnet on top.
"Perhaps he will be an artist?" David said. We tipped our wineglasses and toasted our brilliant son.
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