A copy was kept upstairs in a quiet room, and when an autistic meltdown was coming, we would gently lift Tommy or Henry up and into the sanctuary of a calm space, softly retelling the story of their favourite Caterpillar over and over again until the storm passed. Tommy and his beloved book (supplied)Īs the twins grew older, and an official diagnosis forthcoming, the Caterpillar played an important role in helping them make sense of a world not designed for them. They would trace their fingers over the cut-out holes on the pages, or “read” the story from back to front. They thumbed through the book, pressing their faces up against the illustrations and squinting their eyes, as if to drink in all the colours and shapes in their own unique way. Unbeknown to us at the time, the twins were each in possession of beautiful autistic brains, and their way of experiencing the world – and books – was a lot different to most other children.īut they were drawn to the Caterpillar. Charlie loved them all.īut it was the Caterpillar that he loved best, so it came home with us to New Zealand, Charlie now a big brother to identical twin baby boys. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? The Mixed-Up Chameleon Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me.
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