I get back from a morning run and Charlie hands me the timer and said 'timer.' I set it for 25 minutes and he runs up to the bathroom, with his iPad playing boppy beach tunes reminiscent of the Monkees, showers and other business and comes back down and gets ready for the bus, possibly a few degrees less shoulder-squared tense than he was yesterday (and much of the year). He doesn't seem to have the infamous FluYork flu that's being talked about but.
We watch and read his behavior closely because of his very limited verbal language; because of the behavioral science basis of his education; because Jim and I are big (and frequently fast) talkers and we know that a good part of what gets communicated comes not from words, but from what people do. People can talk about moral ethics and having charity and forgiveness and such in one setting and then use far less peaceable actions when they see others not acting as they believe or want. Or, people can say a 'yes we know' about you're being a vegetarian for thirty years and offer you a table with the same array of dishes laced with pork and such you've seen for forty-plus years.
I know Freud is the last name to be mentioned these days when discussing autism. Charlie yelling 'no school tomorrow' last night on his bike (stopping when Jim simply repeated 'no school tomorrow') and Charlie speeding out to the school bus: Words said in full consciousness, and unconscious and deeply felt desires.