Clothes Make The Man

Dakota is not big on "playing". At least not the way other kids play. He is not the least bit interested in physical play like tag or chase. He doesn't really care for playing with action figures or cars. I can get him interested in Legos, but mostly because he wants my attention and it's something I can do with him for extended periods of time without going out of my mind.

Mostly what Dakota wants to do is role play, and his favorite type of role play is to play school. When we play school he is the teacher and I am the teacher's assistant. I never get to be the teacher. I always have to be the assitant. Dakota is exceptionally good at role play, and at impersonations. Almost since the day he arrived Dakota has had the ability to do dead on impersonations of our friends and his teachers.

While we all take delight in his talent for impersonation, I can't help but feel a little twinge when I think of how and why he developed these skills. I think of Dakota as an infant, lying unattended in his crib. He had to be so careful about how he reponded to his caretaker. He had to notice everything about her in order to gauge whether his tears would be met with a bottle or a curse. He spent his toddler-hood divided between three different homes. Completely powerless to protect himself physically he had to rely on his powers of observation to determine the safety of a new environment. In his early days with us taking a punch from Dakota was a sort of badge of honor. It meant he trusted you enough to know you wouldn't hit back. Thankfully the hitting days are behind us and he now has other ways of indicating when he trust you.

So, back to the impersonations ... now that we have identified something Dakota loves to do, and something he is very good at doing, I think our responsibility as parents is to find a way to help him to develop and share it.

One is the loneliest number

Yesterday I went to Dakota's school to take him to the book fair and bring a batch of cookies for his class.  I arrived at lunchtime and so half the school was in the cafeteria. When I entered I felt much like, I believe,  the minnows feel when they are dumped into the shark tank- I was fresh meat and all eyes were on me. Amidst the murmurs and giggles I was able to find Dakota's table. His class sits together (I assume all classes do) and were at the farthest table. I don't know if they have assigned tables but I hope they do because it is easier for the kids to remember; and I don't know if they seat them at the farthest spot for a reason- perhaps so they are not too distracted or so none of the other kids bother them. In any case, it had the effect - at least to me-of making them seem very isolated. As I mentioned once before I think (pardon the memory slippage - my mind used to be a steel trap now its more of a butterfly net- lots of things can get through) the children in Dakota's class have various disabilities: autism, Down's Syndrome, MR and others. Consequently they have various levels of social skills, eating habits etc. This leads to quite a bit of staring from the other kids. My heart hurt a little when I saw the kids at their tables and some were off in their own world, a couple had food all over them- some because they have hand/eye coordination problems but at least one because his parents don't like to be bothered teaching him as they don't think he can learn (it makes me so mad). The thing is, do they notice these things or do I? Do they care or do I? If I ask Dakota about it and he hasn't noticed, will this make him notice and feel bad? Maybe if they're off in their own world I should leave them there, maybe it beats this one.

It's What I said But Not What I Meant

Who else feels like they are in a continuous Abbott and Costello skit? Metaphors and idioms are abstract enough concepts to teach children anyway, but Autistic or FAS children are/can be very literal and concrete. You may recall the earlier blog about Knock Knock jokes; with that in mind we have been trying to teach Dakota when something is enough- when to quit. Here's the conversation: Dakota you have to know when to quit. Mom, I never quit. I know and thats good You said don't ever quit. Thats right but I don't mean that kind of quit.  But I'm not gonna quit. Of course not and I'm glad but I mean you have to know when to stop doing something. Well I stop when I'm done...and so it goes. I am not sure if the repeating is a comfort to him because he is proud of himself for making a joke or getting/understanding something; or if its the attention he got from the first time he did it and he liked that; or that he's just not "done"! Whatever it is, teaching social mores to anyone who is so concrete is very difficult. Children already take things very literally but Dakota's difficulty with processing complex or abstract thoughts makes it even more confusing for him (I know a lot of adults who have difficulty with anything more complex in substance or concept than a #2 pencil so he's not alone). I always figured he'd learn these things by watching others or listening; it never occurred to me that I would have to explain them. Of course you have the typical things you have to get kids to understand like how to greet people when introduced, answering when someone speaks to you (though sometimes what they say back makes me wish they hadn't) or not staring at people who have a disability or are in some way different than you. Dakota is allowed to ask us about it or even ask the person about it (like people in wheelchairs or with other obvious physical differences); but he can't go up to people who are large and say "hey how come you're fat" or other things that might hurt (occasionally the little cherub jiggles the skin hanging on my arm and laughs and says "Can I wiggle it again" - what a dear boy). Usually he won't go up and ask; instead he'll ask if he can be that person, e.g. he pretends to be a teacher at daycare who is a little person, or walk like someone else who has a limp- he loves to pretend. But subtleties are very difficult. Its hard not to get reduced to "because I said so". We try explaining that there are some things that hurt people's feelings but since he doesn't show a lot of his besides anger, we're not sure he is making the connection. And it doesn't seem right to bring up things that people say that have hurt him and make him live it again- though I recognize at times its necessary. I don't think he picks up on facial cues very well so perhaps I'll try working on those. Then its on to figures of speech. I can hardly wait until someone says to him "Lets not throw the baby out with the bathwater"- OY!

Day/Night at the Museum

We have been away at a conference in Chicago- did you miss us? We had a lovely time visiting aquariums, museums, very tall buildings (at the top of which (observation deck) I had to cling to the pillars in the middle of the room while toddlers offered to hold my hand so I could walk over to the glass and look out- show offs!)  and a baseball game. We did all this for the cost of the budget of a small nation yet, when asked, Dakota said his favorite thing was standing in the park in the fountain getting soaking wet- for free! Another stinkin' lesson learned.

Museum visits always pose a challenge to me with Dakota. The docents want to tell us all about everything-which is great- but they have no hint from looking at Dakota that he would have any trouble processing what they are saying. He usually stares at them either with a lost look or a goofy smile that means he's about to do something silly like making a face or falling on the floor to distract everyone from the fact that he doesn't understand what's going on. In these situations I will repeat what they said or play along with him and be silly or answer for him. Is this the wrong approach? I don't ever tell them he doesn't understand or explain why he doesn't, but we often end up just walking away which leaves me feeling like the goofy one or like I'm giving them the impression I am embarrassed by him. Of course in the end who cares what they think I just don't want Dakota to think I am embarrassed by him and I don't want him to be ashamed of me (I think he was a little bit embarrassed by me lying on the 94th floor of the Hancock building clinging to the fibers of carpet begging for help to get to the elevator). How much info is overload for him? I must remind myself that every moment doesn't have to be a teaching one after all. Maybe we can work out some sort of signal for when he has had enough that is between extremes of possible injury from falling down or the subtlety of his eyes glazing over. Perhaps a museum - outside of a children's museum or Dora the Explorer's kid's exhibit- is more than he can do right now. Oh great- now my eyes are glazing over.