The Family Room

Postcards from France

We had friends over last night, and talked, you know, about things.  One of the odd paradoxes we discussed is the fact that children on the spectrum (most children, actually) crave a sense of structure and like to know what's coming next. At the same time, our kids have a particular tendency to become anxious about transitions, even if they are transitions to something they dearly want.  So it is sometimes a delicate balancing act, the act of telling. Or you can call it by its real name: a crapshoot.

So I, uh, didn't really tell Isaac that we were going to have dinner guests. When the doorbell rang, he became a bit agitated, naming his regular babysitters in near-chronological order and insisting that it wasn't them. And it wasn't.

We set up the kids in Isaac's room with trains, cars and books, and, after a while, left them to play in proximity if not actually together. After a while, I heard a familiar pound-pound-pound down the hallway. One rosy cherubic face popped in, grinned, then another. Then pound-pound-pound down the hallway again.  And back. "We're chasing us!" Isaac crowed, clearly delighted with himself and his companion. I was so bowled over at the spontaneity that I couldn't have cared less about the pronouns. 

It didn't last long (which the downstairs neighbors probably appreciated), but it was progress. Oh, and I made Kung Pao Chicken.

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If you're looking for two beautiful things to read this week, I recommend Paul Collins' piece in Cookie about how to include a child with autism in your birthday parties, and my friend Kristen's piece about what lies beyond awareness.

Off to the kitchen. Grandpa and Nonna flew in today from the East Coast (they hit the jackpot; it's a gorgeous 76 degrees here) and I am about to crack open a bottle of Albarino and make shrimp with snowpeas for family dinner. 

P.S. If you're wondering what the heck the title means, check out this post from MOM-NOS. Classic.

Fun for the whole family

Yesterday was much better. Isaac was back to his chipper self, assisted in part by Daddy's awesome display of QAP.

Here's the new game he invented. We're calling it "The Don't Game":

Daddy: Don't...stand on the bed/and touch your head!
(Isaac stands on bed, touches head, grins.)
Daddy: D'oh!

Daddy: Don't...growl in the towel!
(Isaac runs into the bathroom. A brief pause follows.)
Isaac (muffled): Grrrrrrrrrrrr!
Daddy and Mommy (in unison): D'oh!

Much hilarity ensues.

*
I came home tonight to find this enchanting little tale typed on my laptop:

"Once upon a time Isaac saw his friend Rust. Rust was a big girl with red hair. She had a red dress on. Rust peed in the girls’ room."

It's sort of a collaborative work. The first three sentences were authored by Daddy, while the fourth is Isaac's unique contribution.

A literary dynasty, we are.

Photo Booth: The next generation

When I was in high school, we were all completely obsessed with photo booths. For some reason, the photo booth, and its ability to capture a sequence of three moments in time, became a sort of theater for our emerging identities. The best photo booth pictures required two, preferably three girlfriends all squeezed tightly onto the round metal seat, followed by a series of wisecracks about the size of our collective behinds, who would sit on whose lap, a bit of frenetic makeup-refreshing, and three poses: one silly, one glamorous, and one mock-serious.

If we were feeling particularly ambitious, we'd put on funny hats, our parent's clothes, a feather boa left over from Halloween, and ham it up until we ran out of time, or quarters, or both.

Recently, I framed a photo booth picture of my sister and me, and hung it in our hallway. Without even meaning to, we recaptured the formal essence of photo booth phtography. Now, even with YouTube and camera phones and a million ways to document your life, photo booths still hold a funny attraction for me. And now there's Apple's photo booth software, which Isaac has discovered and made his own. Here, for your viewing pleasure, a few examples of what we are now calling my son's early work.

Blame it on the Thunder Burp

Earlier this week, NPR broadcast a story by Alix Spiegel on the relationship between imaginative play and self-regulation in children. The theory, based on work by Howard Chudacoff, a cultural historian at Brown University, holds that the nature of play has changed dramatically in the last century, from imaginative, fluid and active to more narrow, rule-based and focused on toys. "It's interesting to me that when we talk about play today, the first thing that comes to mind are toys," says Chudacoff. "Whereas when I would think of play in the 19th century, I would think of activity rather than an object."

Chudacoff points out a number of other factors that have dramatically altered the nature of play in the last century: the growing concern for safety, and an increasing thirst for achievement among the middle class.  He argues that this decrease in imaginative, unstructured play correlates to a reduction in children's ability to self-regulate, which is critical to emotional development and, yes, success. 

Those of us who have children with special needs or learning differences have often been sensitized to the importance of play.  In fact, "Delays or abnormal functioning in...symbolic and imaginative play" is one of the diagnostic criteria for autism, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV), a tome with which I am all too familiar.

And it makes sense.  In play, we rehearse life: relationships, conflicts, dreams, beliefs; we learn impulse control and to be resourceful with a stick, a cardboard box and a few pebbles.  And we all know that the time available to our children for pure, unstructured play continues to decrease, filled instead with lacrosse, and piano, and language lessons, and school, and enrichment of all sorts.

I can't possibly do justice to the entire article here; for that you really need to read the article or, better, listen to the story.  But it makes me wonder what else, in our high-achieving and hyper-scheduled world, we may be unconsciously giving up for our children--and if it's possible to get it back.

Finally, I would be remiss by omitting the story behind the Thunder Burp, a toy gun which, according to Spiegel, was the first toy ever to be advertised on TV outside of the Christmas season.  The Thunder Burp may be long forgotten, but its, um, echo remains even today.

The above is cross-posted on Silicon Valley Moms Blog.

More About Combining ABA and Floortime

I've been seeing a lot of searches and getting a lot of questions lately about combining ABA and Floortime, or at least approaching ABA from more of a play-based perspective. In addition to pointing you to this post by Melissa Willa, I thought I'd share a little video of one of Isaac's ABA sessions so you can see what play-based ABA looks like in practice. This one involves a consult, so there are two therapists involved, but you get the idea. This is part of our IEP, for those of you involved in that lovely process.

Here's my guy, having a great time playing "airplane." Please leave any questions in the comment box and Melissa or I will answer to the best of our ability.

Why is Playing Such Hard Work, And Other Stories

From the beginning, imaginative play was elusive for Isaac. At first we convinced ourselves that he just wasn't interested in toys, preferring instead to observe the world and take it in at his own speed. But the idea of taking a block and pretending it was a phone, or "feeding" a doll? Couldn't care less. Fast forward through a series of evaluations, and play continues to be his biggest challenge. He's not really a literal child, in fact, he loves word play so much that we wonder if he'll turn out to be a poet, or a comic, or just, like his parents, a chronic wise-ass.

Lately we are making some headway. J., in a burst of Floortimey inspiration, has turned Isaac's love of elevators into a nice little pretend game. He will hold up his hand so Isaac can press the imaginary "button," then wait for the "elevator" to come and BING! He moves his hands up and up and asks:

J: Isaac, what floor should we go to?"
Isaac: One hundred!" [Ambitious child].
J: [Making whirring sound] BING! 100th floor! Home of...
Isaac: Rooms, frogs, San Franciscos, doors and Ps.
J: Wow! That's a great store! You can buy so many things!

But in a flash he's on to something else, looking out the window or opening a book. Game over.

Most everyone who knows Isaac thinks the problem is less one of imagination than of motor planning. But lately I wonder if it isn't a bit of chicken and egg. Doesn't the one reinforce the other? So we started something new: story time. I begin:

Me: Once upon a time, there was a little boy named....
Isaac: Yaiwent!
Me: Yaiwent?
Isaac [grinning]: Yes.
Me: And Yaiwent had a very good friend named...
Isaac: Youmommy!

So far, I'm not expecting a Caldecott prize for this. Yaiwent and Youmommy do a lot of driving in the car, on the plane, in the bus (we love transportation). I suggest a snack (always, according to my salt-addicted son, cheese crackers and milk), and slyly end with a nice, long nap. It's very basic, but it's interactive, and that's a start.

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On another note, it's one of those bad nights. 10:45 and someone is still refusing to go to bed. I am out of ideas, humor, tricks and patience. I need a break. I need some perspective. I need to fall asleep watching a long, weepy movie and wake up around 10:00 tomorrow to a steaming cup of coffee and milk and a day with nothing to do but walk, and think, and look at pretty things.

Ain't gonna happen. But a girl can dream, can't she?

Playdate Series Part 2: The Playdate

Interview with Fiona Zecca, Early Childhood Development and Behavioral Specialist

So, yesterday we talked about setting up the initial playdate. Can you elaborate on what we should look for in choosing a potential playdate partner?
Start by picking a child your child is interested in. Your ultimate goal is to have your child interact with another child, so pick someone who motivates your child. If you are unsure of this and your child is in a school or child care program, ask his/her teachers. If your child hasn't had many opportunities to form interest in another child or simply is not interested in other children, pick a child that is easygoing and willing to go on a playdate. Pick someone that you know is a good match for your child's temperament and sensory system - someone who will not overwhelm them. If your child is typically the leader, pick someone who can follow. Note that some kids that do not seem like they would be a good match sometimes bring out the most in each other. Probably it is most ideal to pick someone in your child's same age range.

What should be the format for the playdate? Where should you do it and for how long?
To start with I would have the playdate at your house, for no more than an hour, ideally once a week. Your child is going to be comfortable at his/her own home and this allows them to feel in control and possibly have the opportunity to show the other child some toys/activities that interest him/her. This is also beneficial for the partner because kids typically love going to someone else's house to check out their toys. Also, a park is the worst place to have a playdate because the children are not natually motivated to stay togetehr and play the same activity. You often will find one child on the swings, while the other child is going down the slide.

How do you choose the right activity?
I recommend choosing an interactive, high-interest activity that you will lead with the two children, such as baking/decorating cookies. If possible, playfully guide the partner to involve your child by transferring any directive you might give to your child on to the partner to keep your child an active participant. For example, you might ask the play partner to be in charge of the M&Ms by having him ask your child how many he/she wants for each cookie and what colors. This way they are having constant interactions. Eventually you will fade out as the playdates progress and the children are able to interact without so much support. I would recommend doing the same high-interest activity each week to give your child the opportunity to practice his/her role and because most children love predictability and repetition. Change the activity when it is clear they are bored and want a change. Other ideas might be: putting together a ginger bread house or painting a large cardboard box to make a train they can ride in together or an interactive structured game such as "Don't Break the Ice" or rocket stomper or large bubble wands or balloon pumps, etc. What you will choose will depend on your child's interests. Just make sure it is motivating to both children, and, naturally interactive.

So how do you tell if it's not working?
Give the partners at least four consistent times before giving up. Look for small amounts of progress. Certainly you should reevaluate if either child is having a horrible time, but be sure to not give up easily. Even if your child doesn't seem to be getting anything out of it, he/she may be getting more than you think. You may want to take some photos of the playdate in progress and post them on your refrigerator so your child can look at them during the rest of the week and anticipate the next playdate. If you find you just can't bear leading the playdates, it is just not your thing or perhaps you are too emotionally involved, see if you can get someone else to do it, an aunt, your child's dad, a tutor, a social coach, perhaps an aide from your child's school who wants to earn some extra money.

If you would like to ask Fiona a question, leave a comment here or contact her directly at fiona [at] fionazecca [dot] com. You can also check out her Sensory Social Playgroups website here.

In Which Our Hero Plays His Very First Board Game

Sometimes I am stunned to discover that, without even realizing it, I've set aside certain expectations for Isaac. The other night in the ER, the doctor asked if his throat hurt and without even thinking, I snapped: "He can't tell you." Was I trying to protect him? Save time? Don't ask. In fact, Isaac hasn't yet verbally identified pain; a few nights ago he bumped his mouth hard on the side of the bathtub and, through his tears, wailed, "That was SURPRISING!" But sometimes he'll do something so seemingly ordinary and yet so momentous that my breath catches in my throat, and all the hopes that I'd stuffed inside my inner broom closet come tumbling out into the light. It reminds me of the feeling you get when you enter a warm house on a freezing day: first some tingling, then a little pain, and, finally, the warmth seeping through your body.

I didn't quite believe it when Jesse told me that he'd picked up Isaac at school on Tuesday to find him playing a board game with another little boy. It just didn't register, and Jesse had to repeat it several times. I still didn't quite get it when Jesse came home the other night with this magical box, played four consecutive games with no prompting, and invited me to try. Who's the one with auditory processing problems, you may wonder?

So we tried it today. The game is called Cariboo and it's made by Cranium. Somehow it manages to combine several elements that Isaac loves--balls, doors, shapes and numbers--with fine-motor practice in a turn-taking game. There's even an imaginative aspect for the kids who are ready for it. The downside: certain people can get a little over-focused on opening and closing the doors, but it's a small price to play for such a huge milestone and the opportunity to interact more meaningfully with other children.

Now, like the research scientists we've become, the next step is to determine whether our little miracle is repeatable outside the lab. So off we go to the toy store, this time with a little more bounce.

Toy Story

So for some reason I decided today to go through the toys in Isaac's room and weed out the broken, the outgrown, the parts to-who-knows-what and the stuff that, let's face it, he's never really played with, or played appropriately with. From the start, he wasn't much of a toys guy, preferring books, music, snuggling, physical play and long walks. A lot like us, really.

So I told Isaac we were going to his room to make a big mess (gotta love reverse psychology), put on "House Party Time" by Dan Zanes, and we (more specifically, I) got to work. He emptied baskets onto the floor, while I crawled under the bed, reached behind the bookshelves and found a great number of things that at some point in the past I, or someone else, had thought Isaac might like: the racetrack that broke after one day, the plastic pieces to a toy castle that I had stuffed in the closet during a particularly severe period of door obsession, random pages ripped from books, the spines of those poor denuded books, dried Play Doh, broken crayon pieces. And Isaac got to throw them all into the trash--big fun for him (and, who can forget, so good for the visual-motor coordination).

But there were a few trapdoors. Our beloved Richard Scarry books, which are apparently so visually oversimulating for Isaac that he can fixate on one endlessly, moving it past his face while he stares at it through the corner of one eye; his little wooden Thomas set, which my sister bought him for his second birthday and I excitedly set up, only to burst into tears as he took each piece of track apart and put it in his mouth; a plush turtle puppet I bought in an effort to jumpstart his pretend play, which he found so terrifying that I had to hide it in the closet for months (Was that imagination? Maybe even a good sign?)

It's better now--much better. The Scarry books are still a minefield, but he adores Dr. Seuss' Oh, The Places You'll Go! He likes toy cars and plays a little with the Thomas train track. And several months ago he finally started picking up crayons. So...progress. But it does hit me hard sometimes, this sense of norms, and the many ways that he just...sideswipes them. And I wonder what he'll be like in two, five, ten years--whether he'll be anxious, lonely or happily quirky. Whether he'll ever figure out pronouns. Whether he'll have friends. And whether he'll ever be able to tell me what he did that day, and how it feels to be him, living in this world.