'Pauline, remember you would put the dog in the doll's pram and never a baby doll and stroll around the neighbourhood with them proudly in your own world? And then you'd come in and line up the teddy bears neatly. And you also would play Domino's Rally for hours, and we couldn't distract you from it without tears.'

My dad recalled this to me earlier as we waited patiently for his outpatient appointment.

Cue undiagnosed autistic child reflection and reconnection.

I had no interest in my stereotyped toys; I was all about lining up stuff in order, setting objects up in sequence, and knocking them down.

Repetitively.

Indeed, this is quite stereotypical but does not define Autism, but more so for boys. If some saw a girl line up dolls, tea sets, or anything gendered, some would possibly think, What a nurturing, tidy little girl!

Autism?

Never.

If someone saw a boy do similar to cars or trains, even teddy bears, realistically, the immediate default would likely be Autism.

This naturally went entirely over my head and the heads of many around me. I dismissed gender-orientated toys because I couldn't process what to do with them, and I even evaded some but not all conditioning.

My beloved mam had found a vintage doll pram dumped in our laneway and had it rebuilt in the doll's hospital in Dublin for me. She was so proud to present it to me as a 6-year-old after having yet another severe ear infection (sensory overload; my hands were over my ears all the time as a kid), and there I was not interested, and not one baby doll entered it bar my dog.

The neighbours were peering in to see what I had called my new baby. The dog loved their new-found attention.

'Juno, I'd proudly announce after the character in Sean O'Casey's play that my grandad taught me about.'

The bemusement on their faces

I didn't know how to change a diaper at 20 when my son was born. We both cried hysterically as I repeatedly stuck and peeled the adhesive tape from his tiny leg. I had never practised on dolls or even at those classes in maternity hospitals; that went right over my head.

I can't go to toy stores without an outraged rant about stereotypical toys. I even wrote about it years ago, undiagnosed, after my husband went to Smyths toystore Christmas shopping armed with a list of requested gendered toys for all his nieces and nephews. I lost my mind. I left.

We never dared do that again.

This is painfully obvious now as I understand myself better and do self-advocacy work within the community.

Recently, I spoke with a preschool teacher who said they have noticed younger girls do things similar to what I did, and they are far more aware now that it could be Autism. It may not, but there is still increased awareness, which is what we need.

And that is always a good thing. I am off to search online for a vintage Domino Rally set.

To awareness.