When I was a sophomore in high school, I had the pleasure of babysitting a pair of eight year old twins. These girls were spunky, funny, sweet, and very strong for their age. Taking care of them meant coming home with bruises, scratches, and dirty clothes. What made these girls so difficult to take care of? Well, they were autistic twins.
At that time, I didn't understand autism very much. I did notice that the girls had slightly different facial structure, and they were very aggressive. There were popsicles in the fridge, and the girls knew this...so they would dangerously balance on a flimsy stool to reach the popsicles. When I arrived on the scene to stop them, they attacked me! They simply attacked me. And it's strange, because I knew that in their minds, they probably believed they were maybe two years old...or even younger.
Other than eat, something that the girls loved to do was dance. I would put in the "Surfing in the USA" song, and dance. The girls at first were confused as to what I was doing, but joined in. They were dancing and having such a ball. I felt like at that moment, I somehow was communicating with them on a different level. They were dancing, laughing, flailing around. And for that moment, an outsider would have never suspected anything was out of the ordinary with these girls. They couldn't speak very well, almost to the point of not being able to speak at all, but words were not needed to show how much fun they were having at that time in their lives.