Signs my son is working for the CIA
He's my Ittle Man but I just know he's working for the CIA. Here are some signs:
1) Speaks a second language - It may sound like babble and nothing like English. What if it's a second language that an elite group of CIA agents know? I just need to find the manual.
2) Department of Agriculture - My son doesn't say many words but he does say, "awall" that translated means, "apple." When he goes to the grocery store, he only points to apples. I think he's throwing everyone off his CIA status by making us think he works for the Dept. of Agriculture (Charlie Wilson's War joke).
3) The Master of Escape - I gave birth to a Houdini talented son. He can escape from anything. He started with his crib at 18 months. He can open child proof protected doors. He's out the door before you know it. Did I mention he can run fast? That's special training!
4) He keeps to himself and doesn't say much - Maybe he has top secret information that we don't have security clearance for. Maybe he's keeping close observations and taking notes for the next meeting. Maybe his drawings contain secret codes to his next mission.
5) He's all about wheels - My son loves cars, trucks, trains, and airplanes. Maybe he's already secretly traveled in something similar on a trip. Maybe he's determining the best mode of transportation for his next assignment. Could be.
In all seriousness, my son is among many that face language and social developmental problems. I may try to joke about him being CIA. Maybe it's a humor defense mechanism to mask the many challenges we face.
So give a hug of support to someone with Autism. In fact, don't forget to hug their parents and families. It's a tough road for everyone. We just want the best for our kids!
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50% Sale on Language Builder Cards
Hi, I just wanted to drop a quick note and let everyone know that Stages Learning Materials is running a 50% off sale on our website http://www.stageslearning.com">www.stageslearning.com</A>. We have never done this before, and probably won't do it again.
If you've been waiting to buy cards, this may be a great chance for you. I hope this helps. Happy new year!
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Echo! Echo! Echo! Echolalia!
Echo, Echo, Echo, Echolalia!
Nothing gives mom that earthy cave-dweller feeling quite like listening to echolalia all day. Our children get stuck on one word or phrase and incessantly repeat it. It can be especially 'fun' when you are trapped in a vehicle, but only if you enjoy counting the number of times your autists repeats one word or phrase!
Echolalia is actually a unique form of communication commonly used by autists. If you've heard your young child constantly and incessantly repeat what he has picked up from various sources, your child is using echolalia.
Strings of words can range from one word to an entire poem; or a sermon heard at church to an entire full length movie! Many autists will even use the exact tone(s) of voice(s) of a piece that they have listened to. Fascinating!
While echolalia can be irksome for the parent who is listening to it day in and day out, echolalia is actually an advanced language tool. If your young autist has started using it, even if it is just one word, count yourself blessed! The beginning of echolalia is foundational to communicating verbally so be sure to praise it, encourage it and also be prepared to steer it.
Here's some ways we've used echolalia to not only help our daughter, but also to help instill our values into her. You can take, tweak, or toss these tips based on your own needs and values.
Always be thinking about the long run and do imagine your autist speaking one day. Everything you put into him is going to come flowing out when and where you least expect it. You don't want to be embarassed!
Even if your child is always non-verbal, he will still express himself in some way: art, music, construction, dance, writing. So, be mindful of what he sees and hears.
Just because your child cannot speak yet does not mean she does not have other honed skills, such as reading, even in toddlerhood. Yes! I am the parent who turns around the magazine covers at the checkout stand!
Instead of TV, we read gazillions of books, watched educational videos and children's movies. We also read the Bible and poetry, daily. This is the data that was stored in my autist's head when she began using echolalia, thankfully (!) because they will use it in public.
My autist does not know who Justin Bieber, Lady Gaga or Hannah Montana is, but she loves classical music, orchestra and symphony. Do recognize the mathematical qualities of music like this as many autists are mathematically and musically gifted.
Our autist craves and is comforted by reading and memorizing scores of information. Teaching her to use a mouse and how to navigate the internet allows her to use parent approved websites to constantly feed that need. The more data she stores, the more likely she is to have something that she can retrieve during a conversation.
Once our daughter began speaking, it was still hard for her to strike up conversations with other kids. Since she could read, I simply wrote a script for her to follow: "Hi! My name is Ashi. I am 5 years old. Would you like to play?"
It was robotic at first; but perfect for Ashi. It didn't take long and she was ad-libbing. Nearly all of that "spontaneous" conversation was really just memorized from books; but that's okay! The script gave her a comfort zone to start and she became more creative when she was ready.
What an autist can soak up from his environment would astound us all. Many times, that data is stored for later, even years later! The more information they have access to, the more stored information they have to draw from. Being involved in every data source choice ensures it always reflects your values. Homeschooling is ideal for this!
If it is important to you that your child not swear, you'll have to draw the line and ask good friends and family to refrain. Most likely they will not be around should your child decide to repeat curse words, but you will be!
Echolalia is so intriguing; not only does memorizing and repeating help with language, communication, and social skills, an autist may also use it like stimming. It can provide great comfort or can be a tell-tale warning sign that your autist may be nervous or frustrated.
Echolalia can also look like this:
Parent asks, "Would you like some milk?"
Child answers, "Would you like some milk?"
Instead of answering your question, your child may wander ( in his mind) from a glass of milk to thinking about glass, sand, the beach; or liquid, cows, farms, tractors; or white, primary colors, prisms, rainbows.
It is my opinion that he is repeating your question in an attempt to stay focused on the question and not go down all those tangents, but he gets stuck on the question and can't quite get to the answer.
So, try asking like this: "Would you like milk, Yes or no?" This cuts off his bombarding thoughts because his answer is scripted for him, "Yes or no." He still gets to choose, but this will help him stay focused on whether or not he wants milk instead of thinking about the tractor at the farm with the cow who makes the milk.
Asking questions this way is also modelling conversation. You ask the question, make it simple to answer because there are only 2 scripted options, and most importantly, you've just had a dialogue with your autist! Once he has mastered this type of dialogue, he can baby step to a more complex conversation.
See, living in a cave isn't so bad afterall! See, living in a cave isn't so bad afterall! See, living in a cave isn't so bad afterall! See, living in a cave isn't so bad afterall! See, living in a cave....
Annie Eskeldson writes for parents of young autists. Her own autist was non-verbal past the age of 4. Now at age 7, she will not be quiet! The greatest tools were lots of books, the computer, a load of patience, practice and a mountain of love. It took Ashi about a year of answering simple "yes or no questions" before moving on to more complex dialogue. She still uses echolalia daily. Annie counted the phrase "We want Morphin Marty, yes we do!" repeated 198 times on the way to Wal-Mart one afternoon. Annie has 2 published children's books about autism that also comfort the parent. They can be found at http://www.authorannie.com/"><FONT color=#aa0033> http://www.authorannie.com/</FONT></A> Annie has a 3rd book intended to be released by Thanksgiving this year.
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The Science Fair (Winter 2011)
"What are all these kids doing in my store?"
Haydn and I walk into The Lakeshore Learning Store, a store that specializes in toys that Haydn loves. Puzzles, art supplies, learning and science toys, all kinds of building toys, they have it all and they leave them out for the kids to play with. It's never too crowded, and since we go there so often, the whole staff knows Haydn. On Saturdays they usually have craft sessions, which keeps the other kids busy while Haydn checks things out and plays with the toys.
Today, however, is the Science Fair, and there are parents and kids everywhere.
Haydn is not happy about this. The store is usually pretty quiet, and Haydn can explore and play at his leisure. Today, his routine has been completely disrupted. The store is nothing like he anticipated, and there is very little chance of anything going according to his plan. This disruption of the status quo is exactly the kind of thing we want for Haydn. Routines are like a narcotic to him. Once he finds one he is comfortable with, it can be very difficult getting him to deviate from it. So we pretty much smash routines on a daily basis. It annoys him to no end, but in the long run he will be better off.
Of course, I had no idea that there was going to be a Science Fair today. Another one of life's happy accidents.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Haydn decides he wants to check the back of the store for a little while. It is a technique he has developed to ease himself into an unpredictable or challenging environment. He likes to find a quiet place (usually near the back, or a bathroom) and start exploring, gradually working his way into the crowd. It does not take too long anymore, and it seems to help him control some of his more typical aspie behaviors (flapping, spinning, hopping, etc.)
He rummages through some boxes in the rear of the store and drags out a horribly uncomfortable, blue rock of a chair - faded vinyl, lumpy, stained and scratched up. I can't believe they have the nerve to put a price tag on the thing. Of course, Haydn loves this piece of vinyl nastiness. He settles onto his new throne and prepares to "make some decrees." (Thanks, Mr. Jim)
Haydn's decrees are powerful statements delivered in his "serious voice" (not much different from his regular voice, just filled with a supreme authoritative conviction) with a strongly pointed finger for emphasis. He is totally serious when decreeing, and will get the decree hand, "THE DE-CREER," if you will, right in your face.
Still working on "de-creer" etiquette...
The topics of his decrees vary: ranging from the fairly dull and boring, to the fairly dull and boring, but they are delivered with such panache, that for a brief moment, his observations about lights, fans, and bathrooms can seem as important as the state of the union address.
Well, at least they are to Haydn...
"Hey Daddy-o, that looks like my school calendar!"
"Look at the fish by June!"
"Those are compact fluorescent bulbs in the lights up there. Yes they are."
"Hey Daddy-o, don't go in the private room!"
"Daddy-o, I think a girl sings the song in the speakers."
"I think they have the space mobile here."
"I like this blue chair. Yes I do."
After about twenty minutes, feeling a little over-decreed, I decide it's time to check out the rest of the store.
Haydn is sitting on his awful blue chair holding the "school calendar."
"Haydn, would you like to go up to the front of the store and check out the experiments?"
"Yes I would."
He continues to sit and read his calendar.
"Haydn, it's time to go to the front and check out the experiments."
"OK, Daddy-o. Let's check it out." Captain Literal strikes again
Thus begins the long journey to the front of the store.
"Daddy-o, can we buy my chair?"
"I don't think so. It's a pretty nasty looking chair."
"I love this chair. Yes I do. I think we should buy this chair."
"Not today, Mr. Haydn."
"Is this the mister chair?"
"Let's forget about the chair and go to the front of the store."
"It's OK Daddy-o. Let's go check the front."
We try to work our way towards the front, but we must pause to spin a few globes and talk about where New Jersey and West Virginia are located. We simply have to check the solar system models out and talk about our favorite planets. He insists upon a quick check of the magnetic writing boards, then a little gear spinning, followed by a few minutes chatting up the staff (We come here quite often and everyone knows Haydn).
Everything I love about this store is preventing me from getting to the damn Science Fair. The toys are fantastic, and even I can't resist stopping and checking them out as we walk. I look away for a second and the little imp tries to make a sneaky retreat to the back of the store and his awful blue chair.
"Haydn. We are done with the back of the store. It's time to go to the front."
"It's OK, Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
Not sure where the 'it's OK' thing came from
"I'm not mad, I just..."
Am I really about to try to reason with this kid?
"Let's get moving. Walk with me please."
Finally, we get to the front of the store and the "Science Fair." There are three tables are set up with microscopes and magnifying glasses, magnetic experiments, a volcano... lots of cool stuff for a little five year old to destroy.
"Hey Daddy-o, what's in that water over there?"
"I don't know, Haydn. Walk over and ask that guy over there."
He runs over to the table, puts "the de-creer," right in the young man's face...
"Excuuuuse me! What's in that water?"
"That's called space..." Too slow, he's already on to the next table...
I stop him for a minute.
"Haydn. You can not put your hand in other people's faces. You have to keep it low, so you don't poke them in eye. A gentleman always keeps his hands low."
For some reason the gentleman thing seems to work
"It's OK, Daddy-o. Keep... The... Hands... Low!" Little mini decree...
I turn him loose and try to fade as far out of the picture as I can. I don't want to play any role in his peer play time if I can help it. He always makes sure he can see me, but I am hoping to otherwise be ignored.
He sets up at the next table and looks through a two-way magnifier.
"Wow! That's a great big spider!"
"Hey Daddy-o! That's a great big spider!"
"That's great Haydn. May I take a look."
"No. This is just for Haydn. Whoa! That IS a great big spider!"
Haydn observes and exclaims, exclaims and observes, and lets the whole store know of his discoveries. Suddenly he stops, sprints back to the first table, and whips out "the de-creer." Again...
"Excuuuuse me! What's in that water?"
"That is called space sand. Would you like to touch..." Still too slow... he's gone again
This is, of course the funniest thing ever. Haydn is laughing so hard he starts to spin and almost knocks over a sand box full of dinosaur skeletons. After the impact, he picks up a skeleton, turns to the boy next to him...
"This is a Styracosaurus fossil. It's very small. It's not a real fossil. Styracosaurus is a big dinosaur."
A couple of boys are now interested. He reaches into the sandbox and grabs another.
"This is a Dimetrodon fossil. Dimetrodon is medium. He is not really a dinosaur."
One of the boys grabs a fossil and Haydn tells him,
"That is a Brachiosaurus fossil. Brachiosaurus is a great big dinosaur. He eats green plants."
I am so proud of Haydn. Although he is not really engaging in a back and forth conversation with the other kids, (OK, more like he is delivering a lecture - but let me have my moment) he is relaxed, talking about something all little boys like, his eye contact is pretty good, and they are all loving it.
Class is in and Haydn is teaching the other kids about dinosaurs, basically running the sandbox. He looks very grown up to me right now. A big boy.
Then my Little Professor reaches into the sandbox, grabs a sieve, holds it up over his head and dumps it.
"Daddy-o! I made a waterfall!"
"That looks like sand Haydn. Be careful with that thing."
"It IS sand. I made a SAND waterfall! Yes I did."
Sand is flying all over the sand box, a little on the other kids, a lot on him, but amazingly not on the floor. He is still leading the way, (goodbye Little Professor - hello Mr. Imp) and has all of his recruits making sand waterfalls. Unfortunately, the other kids are a little more wild with their sieves and the cascades are starting to sand up the floor a bit.
Having stirred up enough trouble at the sandbox, Haydn suddenly drops his sieve, spins around and runs back to the first table. Again.
Here comes "el de-creer,"
"Excuuuuse me! What's in that water?"
"That is space sand. Would you like to touch it?" Quicker delivery. The kid is getting better.
Haydn cracks up laughing again. Apparently there is nothing funnier than asking some poor soul the same question over, and over, and over again.
He shuts down the comedy club for a few minutes and heads back to the magnifier table, where a girl, about two years older than Haydn, is looking at some slides. He wants to get in on the action and look at the bugs, but is not sure where to start. I consider coaching him a little, but I don't want to embarrass him in front of the other kids. Besides, the only way to get good at social skills is to practice, practice, practice.
"Excuse me girl, do you like the spider when it's big?" Awkward, but effective
"I don't like spiders. I think spiders are gross. Spiders scare me."
"It's OK. That spider is not a real spider." Kind of sweet...
"Would you like to look through the left side, while I look at the right one?"
"Yes, I would like to look through the left side."
"What's your name?"
"My name is Haydn. I like this great big spider." Still a little awkward - but awesome
"My name is Kelly. I think I like the bee better than the spider."
"Do you like the space sand?" uh-oh
"I don't know what space sand is, Haydn."
And he's gone. Back to the first table.
Again.
"Excuuuuse me! What's in that water?"
"That's space sand..." The kid finally loses it, the power of "de-hand" overwhelms him, and he laughs so hard his eyes tear up.
Haydn is laughing too, but notices that the guy behind the table has tears in his eyes. He stops laughing.
"It's OK sand guy. Don't be sad."
"Thank you. I'm not sad. I'm OK. You're just very funny."
Haydn stands there for a minute with a very serious look on his face, happy that the space sand man is OK, but clearly confused by the tears. These are the times when I wish I could sneak a peek into that little mind of his, and see how he processes things. To really get some insight into the inner workings of the Asperger mind. Maybe he is pondering the paradox of laughing with tears. Maybe he is putting that powerful intellect of his to work, trying to solve the riddle of human emotions. Maybe. But for now I can only wonder...
He relaxes after a few minutes, looks right at me, flashes that impish grin, then quickly turns away...
"Excuuuuse me! What's in that water?"
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What Did He Just Say????? (Winter 2010)
Here is a little report I wrote last year about Haydn's unusual use of language.
Enjoy...
I want to lighten the mood and talk a little bit about the way that Haydn wields the English language. No cheesy moments here. No heartstrings will be tugged. We are basically going to be laughing at a child with "special needs" (not my term) for a little while, so if you are sensitive about this type of thing - GO AWAY.
Sometimes it feels like Haydn started talking about five minutes before he was born. He just talks and talks and talks. Making speeches, barking orders, politely asking for things, making decrees. As soon as he thinks it... it's halfway out of his mouth already. He is dead literal in his thinking, and has very little concept of double or implied meanings in language. He has a loud, clear speaking voice, which allows his often painfully inappropriate comments to resonate through the air as clear as a bell.
* Let's go back about a year or so. The former BCBA from the school district comes to the apartment for a home visit. She and Haydn are working on one of his million tiny stimmies. She is a little less than slim. Haydn stops what he is doing and walks right up to her, puts his hands on her stomach and asks:
"Dr. S. Do you have a baby in your tummy?"
Luckily for me, I happened to walk up the stairs just in time to see this little show. I immediately whipped my cell phone up to my ear, faked a conversation, and laughed my butt off.
* Haydn does not look at things, or investigate a situation. Haydn thinks he needs to "check" them. Anywhere there is a room I don't want him to enter. There is a always a reason to "check" something.
"Hey Daddy-o. I think I better check the furnace room at Grandma's house."
"Hey Daddy-o. I think I need to check the gas tank on the car. Just a peek."
"Hey Daddy-o. I think it's time to check places."
* He is also a conversation speed bump. He has the incredible ability to stop a conversation dead in it's tracks.
"Haydn, how was your day at school."
"It was good Daddy-o." Off to a good start
"What did you do at school today?"
"School things." Still not too bad
"Haydn. Would you please tell me one of the things you did at school today?"
"I did my handsome writing. (That would be neat handwriting) Do you think the great big fans at Ikea are going fast? Noooo, they are not going fast. I think they are going medium. They go fast in the summer, but I think they go medium in the winter. Yes they do. Can I have some fruit snacks?"
Right... Must get fruit snacks...
* Haydn also has a very distinctive style when making a statement. He will make his decree, and reaffirm it immediately afterward, making it a Haydn Law, not to be questioned.
"I like Mr. Jim's awesome lights. Yes I do."
"I'm happy. Yes I am."
"I don't want to eat pork tonight. No, I do not."
* Haydn has recently decided to add some silly language play to his repertoire. Clever word play in Haydn's World generally involves changing the first letter of any word. And repeating it. Over and over...
"Hey Daddy-o. Where's Gommy?" Giggling...
"Excuse me. I don't know what that means."
"Where's Jommy, Daddy-o?" Laughing a little harder...
"Haydn, clearly I am not as bright as you are. What are you talking about?'
"Daddy-o, where's Dommy?" Roaring now, no chance of anything productive happening for a while...
You can see where this is going. Unless Mommy comes walking around the corner, or some coyote drops an anvil on his head, he will keep this up FOREVER.
* His wacky, literal mind always makes for a good laugh.
One night at dinner:
"Hey Daddy-o, can I have some ice cream?"
"You can have some as soon as you finish your bowl."
"Noooo. I can't eat my bowl Daddy-o. Only my pasta."
* Haydn also has developed a brilliant way of defusing a situation when he is caught doing something he should not be doing.
"Haydn. Why are you standing on that bed, on your tiptoes and reaching for the string to turn on the fan that I told you not to touch?!?!?!"
"It's OK, Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
Big smile. He knows he's got this one in the bag.
That's it. Every time. How do you argue with that?
How about this one...
Haydn is jumping on the couch. I told him not to (about nine times), but he is still jumping on the damn couch.
"Haydn!!!! What are you DOING?"
"Hey Daddy-o, do you know me?"
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Stay alert, could be a trap
"Do you know me Daddy-o?" Trying to use some kind of Aspie mind control...
"Of course I do, Haydn."
"It's ok Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
These aren't the droids we're looking for...
* Whenever Haydn sees something that he likes - he tells us that he needs it for his room.
"Hey Mama, I think I need that chandelier for my room."
"Daddy-o. Let's get a great big fan for my room."
"I think I need a wind turbine for my room."
"Hey Daddy-o, I think I need to get a new fridge for my room."
"I think I'm going to bring that waterfall home for my room."
* Haydn has a rather unique way of describing things that he encounters for the first time. When asked what he is doing, looking at, stimming on, his response is: "I never met this..."
For example...
Haydn and I are hanging out in the Target toy aisles. He is sitting on the floor with a baby toy. He is flipping the switches on and off (a little sneaky stimming) and laughing.
"Haydn, let's get away from the baby toys and check out some big boy stuff."
"It's OK, Daddy-o. I never met this kitchen toy before."
A new episode of Phineas and Ferb comes on, and Haydn is rolling around on the floor and laughing.
"I like this new Phineas and Ferb. I never met this one."
Haydn walks up to a new door. A door he is determined to open.
Most likely a door he is not supposed to open.
"Hey Daddy-o. I think I need to check this door. I never met this door."
* Haydn and I are out doing a little mall-ratting and he needs to go potty (incidentally, at what age does the cutesy potty talk stop and does the boy get to man up and take a crap?), we go to use the family bathroom. Haydn walks in, raises his left hand and makes this decree... at the top of his lungs, of course:
"I'm too big for the lowercase (kid-size) potty. I can use the uppercase potty and you can use the lowercase potty. Don't SIT on the lowercase potty Daddy-o. You will break it... you're too big. yes you are."
If you were to hear this through the door it would certainly paint quite a picture.
There are no secrets in Haydn's World.
* Any day, any place. Haydn and I are walking, there are other people walking too. He walks up to a random victim, and through his Aspie megaphone:
"Hey man, Do you like your big head!!???"
* When he was younger he would take a part of what I said and turn it into the literal opposite meaning in an attempt to confuse me and make me give in.
A little while became a big while, down became up, it did not matter what I said, if he wanted something else he would spin it and hit me with a quexclamation. (if you don't know quexclamation - welcome to Haydn's World - now go read some older posts)
* Christmas is coming. The Christmas calendar is up on a shelf - Not to prevent Haydn from eating the chocolate (he hates chocolate), but to keep him from taking the whole calender apart and eating the paper.
"Daddy-o, can I have that Christmas calendar?"
"No, Haydn. You can have it on December 1."
"Daddy-o, this is my calendar hand."
"I don't really know what that means little man."
"Daddy-o, why is my calendar hand empty?"
Riiiiight.... calendar hand
* For some reason when he is playing with his best pal Ellie he refers to her by the color of her clothes.
"I want to play the ball game with Pink!"
"I want to go to Miss Peggy's house to see Green. Yes I do."
At the Super Bowl party this year, Ellie was wearing a checkered dress...
"Hey Daddy-o, I'm chasing Blue and Red!"
* First thing in the morning. Well rested, Haydn bounces in and comes into bed to kiss us and announce the arrival of another great day. He usually follows his kiss with the morning's decree - pretty much first thing that pops into his head loudly stated for all to hear.
"Good morning Daddy-o. Good morning Mama."
"Good morning big guy. Please keep the blankets on."
"OK Daddy-o. Today is Saturday. I don't have school on Saturday. No school on Sunday. I might have school on Monday. Monday is gym day. Can we go to the movies now?"
All the while kicking the blankets off of his sleepy parents...
"Haydn. We are not going to the movies yet, please don't ki..."
"I don't want to don'tki." He starts to contradict me before I even finish talking
"I don't know what that means Haydn."
"Can I watch the Hoberman Associates video on the iPad?"
"Not right now kiddo."
"We going to the movies now?"
"Haydn, we are going to go the movies later."
"Later today?"
"Let's go make breakfast Haydn."
"It's OK, Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
* Haydn will, of course, spend as much time as possible discussing fans, fans, and more fans. It's a bit of an obsession, so we have to try to keep it under control. (At least we try...)
We'll pick up this conversation after a solid ten minute discussion about Grandma's fans...
"Haydn, I don't want to talk about fans right now."
"OK, Daddy-o."
"Hey Daddy-o, do you love Grandma?"
"Of course I do."
"Can we go see Grandma on Sunday?"
"I'll call her later and find out."
"Later today??" No concept of time, but that's a story for another day...
"Yes, Haydn. Later today."
"Do you think Grandma likes her kitchen fan on?"
There you have it folks - back to the fan... Six degrees of fan-versation.
* It can be very difficult to get an accurate description about his day from Haydn. Questions are answered on occasion, but other times they just give him an excuse to start talking about what he wants. But one of the interesting things Haydn does is have little conversations with himself. It is a sneaky way to get a little peak into his life. If you listen closely, you can pick out the facts and learn quite a bit about his day.
"I like lowercase m better."
"Today we are going to do lowercase m."
"Lowercase m is better."
See.. Did a little letter m stuff in school today
"Did I run fast in my sweats? I did. I ran fast in my sweats in gym in the morning. I run fast in my sweats on Friday too."
Gym today, good to know
"Why do I like the Hoberman Sphere? I like the Hoberman Sphere because. I. Like it. I think Daniella is going to be at Liberty Science Center. Noooo, Daniella is not going to be at Liberty Science Center. There is a wind turbine at Liberty Science Center. Yes there is. Did I turn off the color lights in the girls dressing room at Nordstrom's? No I didn't. I think I did. I like my Hoberman Sphere. Yes I do. It gets big."
What we learned here is Haydn wants to go back to Liberty Science Center, he has a little bit of a crush on some chick named Daniella, and the little bastard killed the lights at Nordstrom's when I wasn't looking. Oh, and he still likes his Hoberman Sphere
Takes some time, but with a little work anyone can speak Haydn-ese.
Before we leave, I would like to present the Gettysburg Address of awkward, inappropriate comments.
Haydn, Mommy, and I are visiting his new kindergarten classroom on back to school night. We get to meet Mr. Flynn, all the classroom aides, and the parents of some of the other kids in the class. We arrive a little early, just in case Haydn feels the need to check the bathroom, or the lights, or the office..., but I learn that when in school, Haydn is all business. He listens intently to his teacher when spoken to, and follows directions perfectly. He is on his best behavior.
While I am talking to another parent, Haydn walks up to one of the other moms and asks...
"Do you like your brown face?" ???????!!!!!!!!???????!!!!!!!!
Silence.
Painful, awkward silence.
"What did he just say?"
I am too busy holding my breath and trying not laugh to do anything to help this situation. Luckily Mommy steps in and tries to put out the fire.
"He said he likes your brown shirt."
That's it? We're going with 'he likes your brown shirt?'
"Oh. OK."
I can't believe she bought it.
Haydn's wonderful perspective and creative use of language makes every day a little funnier and more interesting than the day before. He talks around the topic, inside the topic, sometimes he just grazes the topic, and other times he just barrels through the topic. I never know what he is going to say next. His language is getting more pragmatic-ish and he is getting better at conversations every day. It is a lot of fun chatting him up now. I imagine he will stay unpredictable and off the wall for a little while longer. So I will enjoy the madness while it lasts. As long as he is not self-conscious about it, I could care less how twisted up and goofy his language is. He works very hard, and I know he will overcome this challenge, just as he has overcome every other one he has faced in his young life.
Because Haydn can do anything he sets his mind to. Yes he can.
|
Speech Therapy with John, Paul, George, and Ringo
One of the most common challenges (at least according to the experts) for a child with Asperger Syndrome is developing an understanding of the subtleties of communication. I can't speak for other children, but Haydn definitely has trouble with basic conversation skills. He has always asked questions and made little speeches (mostly about fans and lights), but conversation is a real challenge.
His initial diagnosis included "Pragmatic Language Impairment," which of course means that he is lacking a certain prag-ness about his language. (everything has a fancy name here on the autism spectrum) He has difficulty interpreting the meaning of what is being said. The hidden meanings in statements, or any implied meanings, simply vanish into the ether. He's not getting it, and he's not looking for it. Yet...
One thing you will notice right away when having a little chat with Haydn is that he has a tendency to take everything at it's most literal meaning.
The family is taking a drive (probably to a mall), and Haydn is holding a cell phone to his ear.
He is happily having a little conversation with himself, so of course, nosy Daddy interrupts his fun.
"Haydn, who are you talking to?" (Just leave the kid alone, he's having fun...)
"I'm talking to you Daddy-o." (Right... I deserve that)
Every day, three or four times a day.
Haydn also has a tendency to prompt himself in order make a statement. It's his way of initiating a conversation without actually initiating conversation. A sneaky little technique he uses to get his thoughts out.
"Do I like the lights in the Old Gym?"
"Yes, I do. I like the lights in the Old Gym."
"Is that Uncle Keith's truck?"
"Yes it is. That is Uncle Keith's truck."
Haydn's inability to start and maintain a conversation is difficult for all parties involved, but one thing that is particularly frustrating is his inability to follow up his primary question with another question that is even remotely "on topic." The first question is the one you might be able to answer. Trying to keep the conversation alive after that takes a little practice:
"Hey Daddy-o. Are we going to Liberty Science Center today?"
"Probably not Haydn."
"Do you like the old gym or the new gym?"
"I think I like the old gym better."
"Hey Daddy-o. Are we going to the Liberty Science Center today?" (A little echolalia, for all those keeping score)
"We already talked about that Haydn."
"Does Xena have a loud bark?"
"Not that I noticed."
"I like the awesome lights at Mr. Jim's house."
Haydn runs away, leaving me to pick up the fragmented pieces of my sanity.
He also has his "scripts" - statements or questions that he has learned how and when to use in conversation. He may not be 100% sure of what he's saying, but he always uses them in the appropriate situation, so unless you know him, you would never be able to tell that he's faking it.
Every day, Haydn has to struggle with his language's lack of praggy-ness. It prevents him from having conversations with the kids at school, it makes it very difficult to find out why he is crying or how he may have gotten hurt, simply getting the facts about anything can be a real challenge. It is a huge speed bump right smack in the middle of his social development. Almost every conversation is a tug of war.
Unless, of course he happens to be listening to The Beatles.
Every Sunday morning Haydn and I go out to breakfast and then head out to the mall, or the park, any place with other kids, in order to have some fun and get some social skills practice in, and we listen to "Breakfast With The Beatles" on the radio or a Beatles CD while we are driving, and... (here comes the cheese) somehow the music has managed to reach through the fog and connect with him in a very powerful way.
"Strawberry Fields Forever" is the first favorite song, followed by "We Can Work It Out," then, "Here Comes The Sun," "I'm Looking Through You," and on through the catalog.
This very strong connection to The Beatles and their music appears to have inspired Haydn to work harder on his conversation skills, and a new dynamic has developed between us during our car rides.
"I'm A Loser" starts playing.
"Daddy-o. Who wrote this song?"
"John wrote this one."
"What's this song about?"
"I think John lost his girl and he's singing about how he feels."
"Is John sad, Daddy-o?"
"Yes he is Haydn."
"Why did the girl leave John?"
"I think he wasn't as nice as he should have been."
"Is Ringo playing the drums?"
"Yes he is."
"Is that the high hat?"
"Sure sounds like it."
"Is George standing in the middle on this one?" (he's seen a few videos, and knows where the boys stood on stage)
"Probably, Haydn."
"Is the Old Brown Shoe song coming next?"
"I'm not sure. Is that the next song on the CD?"
"Yes, Daddy-o. I like the drums on the Old Brown Shoe song."
And so on, and so on, and so on...
Simply Prag-tastic!
These listening sessions are turning into a conversation workshop for him. They have become a forum to apply everything that he has learned in speech therapy, and at home, about emotions, proper conversation technique, language usage, eye contact... etc. He is also learning a little about music and instruments, and that pretty much every song The Beatles ever wrote is directly or indirectly, about a girl.
Haydn has begun to show a little more conversational aptitude elsewhere as a result of his work with The Fab Doctors, but like everything else, it's a work in progress. It's a small breakthrough, but I know how fortunate we are to have any breakthroughs at all.
We've changed the play list (six months straight of The Beatles in the car can wear on one's sanity) since this all began, Haydn is really into Queen and The Killers at the moment, and he is following the same line of questions about their songs as well.
He has also begun to generalize what he has learned and little conversations and chit chats are starting to pop up all over the place.
So always remember to keep your eyes, (and in this case your ears) open as we all stumble and bumble our way along the spectrum...
The next major breakthrough may be only a song away.
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DJ Dance Party (Winter 2011)
Here is a little story I wrote about Haydn's first school dance...
It's Friday night and we are getting ready for "DJ Night" at Haydn's school. When one has a child with an Autism Spectrum Disorder, pragmatic language disorder, sensory processing issues (hearing in particular), and basically no clue how to react in a charged social environment, what is the best plan for Friday night? Take him to a dance party in the school gym, of course.
Haydn is a member of a new autism education program in our school district. He receives all his therapies (speech, physical, o.t., social skills, etc) in class with the other kids on the spectrum and he has been mainstreamed (with an aide) into general ed. music, art, gym, lunch, and recess. He is doing very well according to his teachers, and has allegedly made some "friends" in these classes.
I put friends in quotes because I have not met any of these kids, and I have seen him with critters his age before. He's not much for the conversation game yet. So I often wonder what type of relationships, if any, he has with these kids. When I ask him who his friends are, I usually get:
"DaniellaBriannaRyanMottyAunchMichaelEmilyAllegraGrace"
I'm sorry, did I hear an AUNCH in there?
I recognize the names of a few of these kids, but the others could be anyone. For all I know, he could be referring to some multi-headed creature they keep locked in the janitor's closet and feed left-over meatloaf.
I know that he spends quite a bit of time with the general ed. students, but, "DaniellaBriannaRyanMottyAunchMichaelEmilyAllegraGrace," is all I'm getting right now, and it just doesn't tell me much. So I am hoping a few of these kids show up tonight, so I can see Haydn interact with them, and maybe meet a parent or two.
Haydn is bouncing around the apartment, full throttle and ready to roll, but Mommy and I are not quite ready yet. In an attempt to buy a few more minutes, I ask him to get some clean clothes for the dance. Pick out some good “DJ Dance Party Clothes.” He runs into his room and grabs tonight's ensemble: Spiderman shirt, camouflage pants, brown sock, white sock. In about eleven seconds he gets dressed, puts on his jacket and runs downstairs to the door.
"OK, Mama! OK, Daddy-o! I'm ready for the DJ Dance Party!"
"Let's go! It's time for the DJ Dance Party! Yes it is!""
We arrive fifteen minutes early, so he can check out the school and get acclimated to his surroundings. The primary concerns for the evening are the noise, any flashing lights they may have set up, and the hyped-up mass of kids. I don't want him to get over-stimmed and spin himself into the ground, or flap his way through the ceiling. The good thing about it being a dance party, is that most of his Stiminy Cricket stimmed-out behavior looks a little like dancing. I think it would be hilarious if he could turn this party into a spectrum "Soul Train," and get the whole gym spinning and flapping to the beat.
I also want him to see the gym being used for something other than gym class or assemblies. He needs to be constantly reminded of the flexible nature of his reality. No room, person, or place has a singular definition or use. Variety and change are critical. This lesson needs to be hammered into his skull, never to be forgotten.
Haydn is pretty fired up to be in school at night, and wants to show Mommy and me all of his classrooms. The kid has about ten teachers - this could take all night
"Hey Daddy-o, I think I need to check Miss Pikel's classroom."
"Not right now kiddo, I need to pay for your ticket."
"My DJ Dance Party ticket? OK. I think it's time to check Miss Pikel's room."
"Don't worry about that right now."
"OK, Daddy-o. I think I need to go potty."
"Sounds good - let's do it."
We enter the bathroom. HIS bathroom.
"Hey Daddy-o, the soap is on the left of my sink. It has a cup under it. They fixed the lights in my bathroom. Yes they did. I am going to go in my stall."
"OK, Haydn."
He comes out of the stall, pants up but a little twisted, washes his hands, and dries them on my shirt.
One of the many little jobs for Daddy-o in Haydn's World
"Do NOT touch my black light-switch Daddy-o. The lights stay ON in my school bathroom."
"Alright Haydn. I'll try to resist."
The muffled thump of dance music is forcing it's way into the hallway. We have one more little piece of business to attend to, then we can enter.
"Haydn. I have a glow bracelet that you are supposed to wear when you go into the gym."
"Not the boy. The boy does not need a bracelet. No."
"Fair enough. Will you hold it, and show it to the lady at the door?"
"OK Daddy-o. Let's go to the DJ Dance Party."
Haydn waves the bracelet over his head as we walk into the gym and the wall of sound stops him dead in his tracks. He stands on the black out-of-bounds line of the basketball court... clutching the glow bracelet in his hands at his waist, and starts looking around. I am standing behind him and I can't see the look on his face, but he is not flapping his hands or covering his ears, which is a very good sign.
Mommy and I take a few steps back and let him check out the room on his own.
The lights are dimmed, and there is a deejay set up under the basketball net on the right side of the gym with flashing colored lights (stim-stimmy), and a giant speaker on either side of his console (could be problematic). Under the left basket are several tables with bottles of water, snacks, and extra seating. The rest of the basketball court is a maelstrom of spinning, twirling, leaping, and screaming kids - all trying to out-dance, out-jump, and basically out-crazy, one another.
All, except one. One little blue-eyed boy who is standing ramrod straight like a palace guard, two steps INSIDE the black line now - watching everything.
I walk over to take a quick check on my little soldier.
"How's it going kiddo? You know can jump around and do anything you want at the dance party."
"I'm OK, Daddy-o, you can get out of here." And he pushes me off the dance floor.
That's a good enough answer for me. He is quietly inching his way closer to the other kids, at his own pace, in his own time. I have seen Haydn like this before. He is determined to make this work, and he wants to do it on his own.
One of the things that amazes me, is that he still has not put his hands over his ears. Not one time. Lady friggin' Gaga is smacking his ear drums around, and he has not made one attempt to block it out. He continues to work his way towards center court, and two boys stop their chase-me-dance game for a second and say hello to him. He doesn't say anything, but looks at them and smiles, they smile back at him and run off. Friends! Haydn watches them leave, then quietly resumes the palace watch.
I sneak over to check on him once again, and he gives me his glow bracelet and pushes me off the court again. As I walk off the dance floor, I look down at what Haydn has just handed me. It is a bracelet in name only. Haydn has crushed, pinched, and twisted it into knots, all the glow juice squished into one end. Poor thing never had a chance.
He has not shown any outward signs yet, but I guess it would be safe to say that he is dealing with some stress...
I cram the bracelet carcass into my pocket as a friend of mine walks over. She is here with her children and working as a chaperone. She shows me her kids and I point to Haydn.
"That's my little man in the red shirt..."
"Oh, I know Haydn. I love that kid so much. Your son is my favorite kid in the whole school."
Apparently she worked with him in pre-school last year. She tells me how much she loves him, and all the great things he does at school, and how much fun she had working with him last year. A couple of minutes later his lunch aide comes over and starts giving me a Haydn update. She tells me he loves to eat with the rest of the kids, and he eats everything they put on his plate...
Not much of that going on at home, but that's another story for another day
While I've been listening in on the February meeting of the Haydn Fan Club, Haydn has made his way into the shallows of the crowd (hands locked in front, still standing at attention - ears still uncovered), and the deejay starts playing the "Chicken Dance." Haydn loves funny noises, and as soon as the song starts playing, he starts laughing. Mommy tries to get him dancing, but he's too busy laughing. The two of them have a blast and he only gets a move or two down, but is a failure to learn the "Chicken Dance" really such a terrible thing?
Luckily, (I hope you can feel the sarcasm intended here) it's time for the YMCA. The horns start wailing, the drums start thumping, and another generation falls victim to the hypnotic spell of the Village People. Mommy tries to teach Haydn the moves, and he starts doing a little Y, a little M, not so much C and A. While he and Mommy are YM-ing, the mother of one of his friends walks up to me.
She introduces herself and informs me that her son and the kids in the class really like Haydn. She says that her son told her that when Haydn come into the class it "gets more fun."
So he IS making friends. He may be a little different than they are, but since they are meeting him at at such a young age - Haydn will always be Haydn to them. They have accepted him for who he is. Since it is my feeling that the socializing of Haydn and the development of his social skills are THE MOST IMPORTANT GOALS to accomplish in school, this is like a straight A's report card to me. The academics come easy enough to him. I just want to get him out there with his peers - let him fail, let him succeed, it doesn't matter, just give him an opportunity to at least TRY to hang out with the rest of the kids. That's when the real learning happens.
My moment of inner Daddy-o happiness is interrupted by the deejay's booming voice:
"I want all the kids to get into lines by grade!"
Kindergarten in front, second row is first grade, and so on. I guess it's time for some kind of "slide" dance. boogie woogie woogie...
As the kids scramble to their spots, Haydn stands guard right smack in the middle of the dance floor and looks around the gym. He seems to be a little lost. I walk over, intending to lead him to the front of the deejay booth, and I hear...
"Haydn, come on up here with us."
"Come on Haydn, the kindergarten kids have to be up here. You can stay with us."
Three little girls reach out, take him by the hands, and bring him into the front line of kids. I walk away (before I get pushed), and look over my shoulder at my smiling son and his friends. He stays with the girls for the whole song, does none of the dance moves the deejay instructs him to do, but jumps up and down a little and never stops smiling. The kids all groove together until the song is over, then scatter. Haydn backs it up a little, and resumes his post in the middle of the dance floor.
Haydn spends the next hour jumping and dancing amongst the kids. Mommy joins him for the participation-type dances and teaches him the moves, then he retreats for another shift at the palace gates. He stays right in the middle of everyone, NEVER puts his hands on his ears, and NEVER leaves the dance floor. He does not look odd, or weird, just a little militant from time to time.
The deejay keeps the party going, each grade gets a snack break, and Haydn has stayed longer than I ever imagined he could. After the last snack break, mister deejay decides to split up the gym and have a little "We Will Rock You" singing contest. Haydn loves Queen, so I expect this to be fun. The kids are supposed to clap and stomp to the beat and sing the chorus. It is going to get loud, so Mommy and I both stay close. The song kicks in - STOMP STOMP CLAP... STOMP STOMP CLAP... "Buddy you're a boy, make a big noise..."
"Hey Daddy-o. I hear Freddie singing."
"That's right Haydn."
"Where's Brian?" Brian May, Queen's guitarist - in case you didn't know
"The guitars are coming. Listen closely towards the end."
The gym is getting louder and louder. Haydn is enduring, but that's about it. He looks pretty frazzled, but still holding it together. The guitar rips in at the end of the song and he flashes a weary smile at me.
"There's Brian, Daddy-o."
The song ends, the shouting is over.
Then mister deejay decides to try it one more time.
Good stuff, thanks for nothing mister deejay
STOMP STOMP CLAP... STOMP STOMP CLAP... "Buddy you're a boy, make a big noise..."
Unfortunately, a thirty second guitar solo is not going to save us this time. I can see the first of the tears, peeking out of the corners of Haydn's eyes. Mommy and I make the move.
We sneak in, and lead him out of the line. He is crying, and looks totally wiped out. It's like the entire effort and weight of the evening has finally caved in on him. We want to get to a spot where he can have a little privacy. We kneel together in a corner, and I offer him a solution.
"Haydn, would you like to go to the bathroom so we can calm down a little. Turn those tears off."
"The kids were shouting Daddy-o. They were VERY loud."
"I know Haydn. Would you like to get out of here for a minute?"
"The kids were VERY loud."
"It's OK, Haydn. They were bugging my ears too. Do you want to take a break?"
"No Daddy-o. I want to stay right here." What can I say, the kid's a beast...
"OK, Haydn. Let's turn those tears off."
He grabs my thumbs and starts squeezing. The palms of his hands are soaking wet. I realize what he has been doing all night, why he has been standing guard on the dance floor. He has had his hands locked up in front of him so he would not flap them, stim with them, or cover his ears.
He takes a deep breath in and blows it out. Another one in, another one out. "Blowing up the Balloon." He calms himself a little, and he turns off the tears. He looks over my head at the rest of the kids and let's go of my hands.
"OK, Daddy-o. I'm alright. Yes I am."
Mommy gives him a little kiss, and he runs back to his post on the dance floor. It took the length of one song. He is exhausted, but not ready to give up the party yet. We are coming into the home stretch, about fifteen minutes to go. Haydn is back out with the rest of the kids, bopping and guarding his way to the finish line. The party is almost over, and mister deejay announces that he has received a lot of requests for a song from a rather popular teenage pop star.
Having said that, he promptly serves up a steaming pile of Bieber for the kids to digest, and...
Haydn runs across the dance floor to Mommy and me.
"OK, Mama. OK, Daddy-o. I'm ready to go now."
We grab our coats and walk to the door. A couple of his friends run over before we leave, and say goodbye. He smiles at them and (with a little prompt) says goodbye back to them.
We put on our coats and walk out of the gym. As we are walking, I reflect back on the evening for a moment. Haydn did a remarkable job tonight. His will-power and determination, the incredible inner strength he possesses, carried him through an extremely challenging situation. The intense sensory barrage of dance music, kids screaming, flashing cameras, pulsing deejay lights, twirling glow sticks, did not diminish his resolve, could not defeat him, would not make him give up and leave the dance party.
In the end, it was really only one thing that drove Haydn out of the gym...
One thing that put an end to the DJ Dance Party...
One thing more powerful than all of the sensory challenges and difficulties of the evening...
One thing even more powerful than the autism spectrum...
That one thing was...
One crappy Justin Bieber song.
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The Track Meet (winter 2011)
Another adventure from last winter:
I decide that Haydn and I are going to go to an indoor track meet.
That's right, I said "indoor track meet" - High "echo-ey" ceilings, fluorescent lighting buzzing overhead, the cacophony of chattering teenage runners, screaming coaches, the glorious organized chaos that IS indoor track. I am going to take my five year old son - perhaps you've heard of him - the little guy with Asperger Syndrome and sensory processing disorder (supersonic-sensitive hearing, among other things) into this maelstrom of noise and excitement.
The two of us drive to the field house and park the car. There are school buses everywhere. Big yellow school buses. EVERYWHERE...
"Hey Daddy-o. That's a great big yellow school bus!"
"I see it Haydn."
"My school bus is little."
"I know Haydn, just keep walking please."
"My school bus is yellow like that great big one!"
"Thank you for sharing that with me buddy."
"The buddy rides a little yellow bus to Berkeley School."
"Oh does he?"
"That is a great big yellow bus. Yes it is."
"So it is."
Seems to have a certain fascination with the obvious
"I like my little bus Daddy-o. Yes I do. I like my little bus. I don't ride a great big bus."
"I like your bus too. Time to change the subject. Let's talk about something else."
"OK, Daddy-o. Do YOU like those great big yellow buses?"
"Haydn, enough about the buses please."
"It's OK, Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
"I'm not mad. I just don't want to talk about the buses anymore."
"Does the track meet room have lights like the Old Gym?"
And the lights make their first appearance of the evening...
We walk into the field house, and my very excited, slightly over-stimmed little partner heads right over to the maintenance closet.
"Hey Daddy-o, is that the janitors closet?"
"Looks like it."
"I can't go in there. No I can't."
"Great. Then why did you run over there."
"It's OK, Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
We walk down the hall and around the corner, and BAM!! Haydn stops dead in his tracks. This is going to be hard room. The field house has a high, arched ceiling, and coaches and athletes scattered all over the infield. They are running the sprints - hurdles on one side of the track and the 55 meter dash on the other. That means a gun is firing about every minute or so, one right after the other. I forgot about the damn guns...
Kids are stretching and jogging, all the while talk, talk, talking. There are cheering parents, screaming coaches, all the ingredients necessary to make for a delightfully overloaded, sensory experience. When Haydn encounters a hard room, as we call it, he likes to slowly work his way in, checking out his surroundings and scanning for "friendlies."
"Friendlies" are fans, lights, bathrooms, a familiar face, anything that he can focus on while he gets himself acclimated to the room. He finds something he likes, we talk about it a little, and move on with our day. This is a coping mechanism that he has developed over time and it is very effective. As long as we are patient, Haydn can handle just about any situation.
"Hey Daddy-o, I think those are fluorescent lights in the chandeliers up there."
Our old friends the lights, always there when we need them
"Why do you say that Haydn?"
"Because they look like fluorescent lights." Right...
BANG!!!
Haydn almost jumps out of his skin, starts talking a little faster.
"Hey Daddy-o, there are two bathrooms over there. The boys room is on the left and the girls room is on the right. I use the bathroom on the left and the girls use the one on the right."
BANG!!! This gun is going to be a problem
Another big flinch, with a hop, jump, and a little hand flap. Haydn balls his hands up into fists.
"Hey Daddy-o. Do they have bleachers here?"
"They used to."
"Hey Daddy-o, I didn't cover my ears! I am very brave today."
"I am very proud of you Haydn. You know, if you don't like this place, we can come back next week and try again."
BANG!!!
Flinching, Haydn looks straight ahead and says:
"I think I better go in the track meet room and find Tyler."
"OK, let's do it."
We walk across the track, and Haydn has my arm in a vise grip... head tilted to the right to cover one ear, the left hand cocked and ready to cover the left ear. I scan the infield for Tyler, hoping to get this madness over with quickly...
"I see Tyler."
Off he goes. Running through the crowd of stretching teens, Haydn barrels towards his cousin.
BANG!!!
He jumps in the air, head tilted for ear protection, never breaking stride, until he plows straight into the middle of Tyler's team. Most of the kids are stretching and warming up, and Haydn settles right in the middle and starts doing his own version of warm-ups. Everything the big kids do, he tries to do. He tries to touch his toes. He sits on the floor and grabs his feet. One girl lifts up her right leg and grabs the foot to stretch out the quads, so Haydn bends over, grabs his right leg...
And does a face plant right into her gym bag.
"Whoa. I wiped out!"
"Are you alright big guy."
"Yes, I'm OK. I'm not a guy. I'm a boy."
BANG!!!!
A little air under those feet, no hands on the ears this time.
I spend a few minutes talking to Tyler while Haydn flirts with the girls.
"Excuse me girl, do you like the Old Gym?"
Aspie Suave´...
"Yeah, I guess it's OK."
"I love the Old Gym. Yes I do. There are square lights in the Old Gym. I like the lights in the Old Gym. Yes I do."
"I can see that. I guess they are pretty nice lights."
BANG!!!!
A little less jumpy, no hands on the ears, head straight-ish. The guns are fading into the background. I learn that Tyler's race is going to be in about three hours, so Haydn and I are going to need to find something to do.
"Hey, Daddy-o. I think I need to go potty."
Well that's something to do...
"OK, let's go. Say goodbye to everybody."
He never knows how to end a conversation. He usually just flies away.
"Goodbye everybody. See you later Tyler. See you later track meet girls."
Unfortunately, in order to get to the bathroom, we have to cross the track near the finish line. Right next to where Mister Starter Gun has been methodically blasting Haydn's ears and disrupting our evening.
Haydn does not see him, so I try to hurry him toward the track crossing. Every other minute of every other day, Haydn moves at 100 miles per hour, buzzing around and dragging me along for the ride. Now that I need him to pick up the pace, he shuffles along slowly to the scorers table and starts a conversation with one of the meet officials.
"Hey. Excuse me. Do you like your black track meet notebook? I think I like those track meet lights."
BANG!!!!
We are too close.
The shot seems to rip right through Haydn's ears. The blue of his eyes flatten out and his hands lock up over his ears. I can see tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, the bottom lip slipping out.
I need to get him to a private place so he can calm down. I want him to be out of sight, so he does not get embarrassed. He has a terrible reaction when a room, or something in the room surprises him. He does not like to fail, and I think he gets embarrassed when he loses control. It's almost as strong a feeling as the sensory shock that usually causes the problem in the first place. He is a very resilient little guy and just puts his head down and plows into the situation at hand whenever possible, but unfortunately that aggressive attitude sets him up for a big old sensory backhand upside the head from time to time. It does not happen often, but when it does, he will go fetal on the floor with his hands over his ears. He withdraws into himself, and it is not easy to pull him back out.
I scoop him up and carry him across the track. He is terrified, his head ringing from the gun shot, he has his head buried in my shoulder. I can feel the tears wetting my shirt, and his grip is getting tighter around my neck. I see a staircase by the bathroom. It appears to be a little darker and a little quieter than the rest of the room, so I decide to duck into the shadows and see if we can pull this thing back together.
We sit on the stairs, Haydn on my lap, his head buried in my chest. I notice that he is soaked with sweat. The back of his neck, his lower back, his hair. The track meet has been so intense that it has actually taken a physical toll. He is starting to shake and I can feel the weight of every person, every sound, in the room pouring out with each of his breaths.
"Haydn. Is there anything I can do to make this better."
He doesn't say anything, but grabs my hands and places them on his back, one on the lower back, and one on his shoulder blades. He is very deliberate in their placement. I squeeze him a little tighter and I can feel the hitch in his breathing release a little.
"Let's try to calm ourselves a little. Let's breathe, and try to turn off the sad switch."
Haydn visualizes his moods (anger and frustration - the temper switch, sadness - the sad switch, etc.) as switches, and he tries to turn them on and off when he needs to.
"Would you like to try blowing up the balloon Haydn?"
"Yes. I think we should blow up the balloon Daddy-o."
Big breath in, blow it out. Do it again. And again. Blow up the balloon.
He starts to get himself under control. I can feel the tension in his body releasing.
He gets off of my lap looks right at me. Ten minutes and he already has that sparkle back in his eyes.
"I think I need to go potty." Back to the original task
"OK, let's do it, kiddo."
"The kiddo needs the bathroom Daddy-o."
"Of course he does."
We walk into the bathroom, make a quick dryer assessment (looks like paper towels), and he ducks into a stall to do his business. I close the door to give him privacy.
"Hey Daddy-o, that boy is making poopy!"
"Excuse me?"
"The boy next to me is making poopy."
"Haydn, I don't think he needs you to tell everyone. Move it along, we need to get out of here."
I peek in the door, and Haydn is doing some sort of bathroom stall yoga, taking a leak all over the side of the toilet while standing on one foot and peeking under the wall of the stall. Real good for the core and overall balance...
Fighting the laughter, I try to muster up something resembling an authoritative Daddy voice (with the middle name thrown in for dramatic effect):
"Haydn Michael, what are you doing in here?"
"It's OK, Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
I decide to cut him some slack. He just worked a real hard room, took a sensory beat-down, and still managed to get himself back on track. Pretty impressive for a five year old. I am very proud of my little guy. Can't let a little bathroom yoga derail a pretty significant achievement. In fact, I think a stop at Carvel for some ice cream may be in order.
He walks out of the stall and I twist his pants around for him. (he can't ever seem to get his pants back to the way they were pre-potty) I look up and see kids everywhere. There is a line of kids waiting to get into the stalls. Lines at each urinal, lines at the sinks. The room is reaching maximum capacity. We need to wash our hands and get out of this place.
We wash our hands at the sink and as we dry them, I feel so proud of Haydn that I feel that it is time to make a big-time Daddy speech and spell it out for him. In the most crowded bathroom in New Jersey. Brilliant.
"Haydn I am very proud of you. You did a great job at the track meet today. I know it was hard, but you were very brave and very tough today. You are getting very good at beating these hard rooms."
Then my amazing little boy... My Aspie Warrior... The light of my life... My inspiration to try to be the best Daddy and best person I can, looks up at me with sparkling blue eyes...
And turns off all the lights in the bathroom.
"Haydn!"
"It's OK Daddy-o. You don't have to be mad."
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Building Language for your Autistic Child
Emerging Language and Building Vocabulary
Language development varies from child to child, and there are wide ranges of expected “normal” language development in young children. If you have specific concerns about the pace of your child’s language development, you should definitely discuss this with your health care professional. However, for reference sake, by the age of two a child is expected to be able to: http://www.stageslearning.com/free-resources/teaching-tips/building-language-your-autistic-child"><SPAN style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA">http://www.stageslearning.com/free-resources/teaching-tips/building-language-your-autistic-child">... Read More
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Autism and the Holidays
These days nearly everyone knows a friend or family member who is touched by Autism. Perhaps it’s your own child or your sister’s child. Perhaps it’s it the child of your neighbor, your dentist, your mail carrier, or hair dresser. Does your daughter teach a special needs classroom? Is your brother a speech therapist?
With the holidays fast approaching, you will inevitably have to answer the question: http://www.theautspot.com/blogs/createthread/www.stageslearning.com"><A href="http://www.theautspot.com/blogs/createthread/www.stageslearning.com">what gifts are appropriate for individuals affected by autism or related developmental challenges?
Autism is a complex syndrome that affects a family in so many ways: it is emotionally draining, demanding on time, and challenging for relationships… but, perhaps above all, it is expensive! Rather than a scented candle or a box of golf balls, consider selecting gifts that will support your friend or family member’s efforts to teach their child with autism, or their students or clients with autism.
If you are a parent of a child with autism searching for a gift for your child’s teacher, consider giving educational tools and toys that he or she can use in the classroom. Teachers spend so much of their own money on supplies; they would certainly welcome a box of language cards or a set of manipulative puzzles over a crystal apple or another box of chocolates!
Children with Autism face special challenges when it comes to learning through play in the same fashion as their typically developing peers. The toys which would hold particular educational value for most children are not always appropriate for a child with autism. Perhaps the best thing you can give to that child, are tools to help him or her develop the language and skills to help them play with their siblings and peers in the future.
“An investment in knowledge pays the best interest.”
~Benjamin Franklin
http://www.theautspot.com/blogs/createthread/www.stageslearning.com"><FONT face=Calibri>http://www.theautspot.com/blogs/createthread/www.stageslearning.com">Stages Learning Materials is offering free shippig for the holidays. Best wishes for a happy holiday and a new year filled with growing, learning and thriving.
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