If you could instantly master any skill, what would it be and why?

This is one of those questions that sounds simple until you really stop and think about it.

Most people would probably choose something impressive. Speaking every language on Earth. Playing the piano like a virtuoso. Flying a plane. You know, the sort of things that make people say, “Wow.”

Me?

I’d choose something that most people seem to arrive in the world already knowing how to do.

I’d instantly master social interaction.

Not public speaking. Not networking. Just the everyday ability to effortlessly understand social cues, body language, facial expressions, hidden meanings, and all those unwritten rules that neurotypical people seem to absorb without ever being given the instruction manual.

For many autistic people, myself included, social interaction can feel a bit like being handed a board game halfway through and discovering everyone else knows the rules except you. You spend years trying to work out why people say one thing but mean another, why “fine” rarely means fine, and why apparently there are seventeen different meanings to the phrase “we should catch up sometime.”

I’ve spent much of my life trying to crack that code. Sometimes successfully. Sometimes with all the grace and elegance of a Labrador trying to ice skate.

It would be nice to simply know.

To walk into a room and immediately understand the atmosphere. To spot when somebody wants a conversation to end. To recognise when somebody needs support without them having to spell it out in words the size of house bricks.

That would be a superpower worth having.

Although…

There is another skill that runs it very close.

Cooking.

More specifically, being able to cook and bake to the same standard as Mrs Bob.

Now before anyone starts, this isn’t about competition. I’ve seen Mrs Bob in action in the kitchen. Challenging her would be like turning up at Wimbledon because you’ve recently bought a tennis racket.

No, I’d simply like to be able to help more.

As we get older, it would be nice to occasionally wander into the kitchen and confidently announce, “I’ve got this, love.”

Not before producing something that either came from a freezer drawer or required pressing a button marked Start.

A proper meal.

The sort of meal where the smoke alarm remains completely uninvolved.

Or perhaps a birthday cake.

Not one that leans suspiciously to one side and looks as though it’s survived a natural disaster, but a genuinely lovely homemade cake. Something made entirely by me to show just how much I love and appreciate everything she does.

Because the truth is, social skills might make life easier.

But being able to put a smile on Mrs Bob’s face with something I’ve made myself?

That’s a pretty tempting choice too.

Stay safe,

BC