Reverse echolalia: a strange parrot

Today's nickname is "Blue Penguin Agent Secret"

It would be a very strange parrot if it wanted YOU to repeat everything IT said. That's what we've always had going on here, different than the usual parroting--if you can even call that usual. I swear, we are even atypical about atypical stuff. *Agent Secret* likes to repeat what people say, but much prefers if everyone repeats what SHE says. And lord help you if you don't.

Side note: my theory about echolalia--either standard or reverse--as being an autistic form of making eye contact is even more plausible now that I've seen it in our 3 yr old blind friend at school. Our blind friend is not autistic, yet she relies on echolalia to participate in a world that she can't see. She loves to repeat any word or phrase-- or encyclopedia page, practically-- with perfect pronunciation, but also has her repertoire of scripted stuff she says as a way to get the attention of whoever is nearby. For instance, she likes to count, and will say, "9, 10" to see if anyone is listening and if anyone will say it back to her. When someone repeats it back she is so happy and will continue the reverse echolalia, probably forever until someone puts an end to it. I believe it is like eye contact to her. And, I have just read on Wikipedia that blind children are also known to use echolalia, and Wikipedia knows everything, so therefore, my theory is sound.

Anyway, so, I'm always the one that is expected to do the repeating around here. But at 5am (that's the time dog and child force me to stumble around tending to their needs/demands), I just don't feel like repeating random crap. I just don't. I'm struggling to make my coffee and at the same time get the right food to the right critters, i.e., the dog food to the dog and not the child. Not until after one full cup of coffee can I utter a sound other than, "Hmmmm" or "Mmmmhhmmm" or "Hmmmm?" This went off like usual today, and at some point, after *Agent Secret* had said, "It's a chicken" or something like that, about one hundred times, I finally said it back--on autopilot because I didn't even know I'd said anything, and was startled by applause and congratulations, "GOOD JOB, MOMMY! Good job! Good TALKING!"

Hmmmmmmm....

The echolalia IS the eye contact

I've begun watching the video glossary on the Autism Speaks website--and I'm totally blown away at all the signs my daughter had even at 12 months. One video shows a typical baby at 12 months playing with something and often looking up to make happy eye contact with parent, smiling, as a way to share the activity. The contrasting video shows another child doing the same thing, but only engaging with toy, never seeking eye contact, and frustration when needing help with toy, but not seeking help from parent other than by vocal distress. That's my kid. Just seeing the baby in the video look up and smile at the parent/researcher struck me as so telling, since I have never seen my daughter do anything like this. Also, I have no other children, so no good comparisons. I knew from day two of her life that there was something different and more difficult about our experience, but I didn't know what it might be until much later.

As I was considering the issue of eye contact, something else struck me: the echolalia IS the eye contact. Her frantic insistence that I often repeat things she says IS the eye contact and sharing. That's how she maintains connection with me and reassurance that I am SEEING her.

Lightbulb moment.