CATCH IN MY CHIP v
(Autistic author)
The silence is heavy, filled
with the echoes of shattered
shell and shredded photos.
Karen's gaze is on her husband,
her heart aching as she sees
the turmoil in his eye. She knew to
tread carefully. She turns to him,
as he's hyperventilating.
"Plankton," she says firmly,
but her voice is gentle.
He doesn't respond at
first. But eventually,
he turns to her.
"I know you're upset, but you
can't talk to Chip like that,"
Karen says, her voice steady.
"He's just a kid, and he loves
you. He's trying to understand."
Plankton's breaths come in
quick, harsh gasps, his chest
heaving.
Karen approaches him, her
movements deliberate and calm.
"Plankton," she says, her voice
even. "Look at me."
Plankton's breaths slow,
his eye flicking to hers. He's
still trembling with anger, but
the storm seems to be passing.
"I know you're upset," she
continues. "But you can't take
it out on Chip. He loves you."
Plankton's shoulders slump,
his body deflating like a balloon.
"I know," he murmurs, his voice
barely a whisper. "I just... I can't..."
Karen nods, her eyes filled
with understanding. "It's okay,
sweetie," she says, her hand on his
back. "It's a lot to handle." She
guides him back to the bed, her touch
gentle and soothing. "Let's talk about
this when you're feeling better."
Plankton nods, his body still
shaking with the aftermath of
his outburst. He sits down heavily,
his eye cast down at the mess
around him. "I just wanted to show..."
he starts, but his voice trails off.
Karen sits beside him, her hand
still on his back. "I know you did,
dear," she says, her voice filled
with compassion. "But you have to
understand that Chip doesn't know
how to help you yet. And throwing
things and yelling isn't going to
make it better."
Plankton's breaths slow, his
body still tense. "But he...
he doesn't get it," he murmurs.
"He just kept pushing."
Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving his. "I know, Plankton.
And it's our job to teach him.
To help him understand." She
speaks softly, her voice a gentle
reminder of the love that fills
the room despite the chaos.
Plankton's eye meets hers,
his anger slowly receding. He nods,
his shoulders slumping. "I know,"
he says, his voice ragged with
emotion. "I just... I want him to
see me, not just... this."
Karen sighs, her hand still
on his back. "He does see you,
Plankton. He sees the amazing
person you are. But he's
just learning about autism."
Plankton's eye narrows, his antennas
drooping slightly. "But why
can't he just be careful?"
He asks, his voice filled
with pain. "Why does he have
to be so... much?"
Karen's heart breaks at the
sorrow in his voice. "He's just
excited, Plankton. He doesn't
understand the way you do."
Plankton sighs, his antennas
drooping. "I know," he murmurs.
"But it's so... overwhelming."
Karen nods, her eyes filled with
understanding. "I know, sweetie,"
she says. "But we can't expect
Chip to understand everything
right away."
She gets up and goes to the
closed bathroom door, her knuckles
lightly rapping against the wood.
"Chip, honey," she calls out, her voice
soft. "Can you come out?"
The door opens slowly, and Chip's
face is a mess of sand and tears.
Karen's heart clenches at the sight.
"Come here," she says, her tone gentle.
She pulls him into her arms,
his small body shaking with sobs.
"It's okay, baby," she whispers. "Daddy's just
having a hard time right now."
Plankton's eye follow them,
his own anger now replaced with regret.
He opens his mouth to apologize,
but no words come out. Karen nods
towards the bed, a silent invitation
for him to join them.
With a heavy sigh, Plankton
moves to sit on the edge, his
body still trembling with the
residual rage. Chip's sobs
subside into quiet sniffles, but
his face is still a picture of
hurt and confusion.
"Chip," Karen starts, her voice
calm and steady, "what happened
today is because Daddy's brain works
differently, remember?" She
looks at Plankton, whose gaze is
now on the floor, filled with
remorse. "And sometimes, we all
have to learn how to communicate
better."
Chip nods, his eyes red from crying,
still not fully understanding.
"But Daddy broke my trophy," he
whispers, holding a shard of it
in his hand.
Karen sighs, her gaze flicking to
Plankton. "Yes, and that was
wrong of him. But we need to
talk about why it happened."
She looks back at Chip, her eyes
filled with compassion. "Sometimes,
when Daddy gets too overwhelmed,
he doesn't know how to handle it.
It's like when you're really upset
and you don't know what to do with
all those big feelings."
Chip looks up at her, his eyes still
wet with tears. "But why did he yell?"
Karen takes a deep breath, her
hands stroking Chip's back in gentle
circles. "Because, honey, Daddy's brain
sometimes gets too full, like a jar of
sand with too many shells. And when that
happens, he needs a little help to
make room again."
Chip looks up at her, his eyes
searching hers for understanding.
"But I didn't mean to make him
mad," he says, his voice shaky.
Karen nods, her eyes never leaving
his. "I know, sweetie," she says,
her voice a gentle caress. "But sometimes,
even when we don't mean to, we can
overwhelm people. It's not your fault."
She glances at Plankton, who's still
staring at the floor, his body
a taut bow of tension. "Daddy just
needs some time," she says, her voice
soothing. "We all do sometimes."