It seems like with children in general, as soon as you think you have something figured out, it changes. Little Bug was falling asleep by himself. Not anymore. Friday night was spent putting him into bed over and over again. Very businesslike- "It's time for bed." Done without emotion or eye contact. Not that it helped, five minutes later, I would hear the crinkle of diaper and the thunks of little feet.
Saturday, he did the scariest thing that I think I have ever seen. We were at the bus stop- his weekly treat is riding the bus. It was raining and I wanted him to sit on the bench inside the shelter. He refused to sit on the bench and kept standing up. Over and over this battle would rage- me having him sit down and him standing right back up. He went to stand up and grab my arm, which made me slip. When I slipped, he fell down and hit his head on the shelter- cutting his earlobe and creating a nasty purple shade in the cartilage. He screamed bloody murder for maybe thirty seconds and then was fine- just didn't bother him. Meanwhile, I couldn't tell where the blood was coming from- it initially looked like it was coming from inside his ear. We got it somewhat cleaned up- enough to know that it was only a tiny cut on his earlobe- and then rode the bus home. I put him in his high chair and cried in the next room. I was so scared and he didn't care about what happened. To him it was like it never happened. Even now, with his ear a wonderful shade of purple which looks like it should hurt, he isn't bothered.
To me, that is the scariest. You never know when he is hurt. If he doesn't feel good. I can't help but wonder how would we know if something really was wrong.
On Sunday, we went goodwilling- its fun to do. Little Bug often comes out with a ton of new cloths and books that were a buck each and Nick and I like the search. We found a great book for working on emotions- Sad Monster Glad Monster. It comes with fold out masks and asks children to describe the monsters. The one down side was Little Bug's meltdown in the store if I wanted to look at something without him. You would have thought that Nick was abducting him. "No! Daddee Halp! No, no, no! Owie!" Over and over again. If I didn't know them, I would have gone over and asked if he needed help. Surprisingly, no one noticed or if they did, weren't concerned.
On Monday, I debuted a new therapy with him- the magic box. I read somewhere that many children with ASD have a hard time using multiple senses at the same time. We are currently working on adjectives, so I figured why not put the items in a black bag and have him feel them and teach him the adjective that describes the word. It took a lot of trust on his part, but he can do it. We noticed though that once he sees the item, he can no longer describe it. His therapist A was impressed at our exercised and really interested to that he couldn't describe it.
Here's an example- I placed a softy fluffy baby chick toy in and had him feel it. He was able to repeat SOFT while touching the item. When he retrieved it and was able to see and touch the item, he could no longer repeat the word. We repeated this with a pumice stone, squishy lizard, and cotton ball. Each time, the same scenario played out. It was as though his little brain couldn't process all of the sensory information being provided at once. When isolated, he was able to respond correctly.
I don't know what it means or if it means anything, but it is fascinating to see how his mind works. This will help us be better parents. For us, this whole process isn't about changing him to a mold of normal or curing him, it is about learning how to adapt ourselves to meet him halfway. Hopefully, that is what we are accomplishing.
Nick found some wonderful articles to take to his parents and so did our therapist to help them understand ASD and SID and hopefully, bridge the gap.
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