Matthew At The Lake

There's no question, at least in my mind (and in the minds of the speech and occupational therapists that work with Matthew twice a week at our local elementary school) that Matthew has sensory issues. I've known it since he was tiny. It was nice to finally have other people see what I've seen for so long and not try to write it off as being 'quirky.'

It becomes blatantly apparent, though, when you take him to the lake. Especially when the water isn't exactly calm and it's not exactly warm. This time, there wasn't very much wind, and that really helped. But as soon as we stepped onto the sand, Matthew started to fuss and even cry a little.

"There's sand in my sandals!" That's okay, Matthew - that's why they're called SAND-als. "It's too loud!" Try putting your hood up and see if that helps. "I want to leave this place!" Let's just sit on this log for a few minutes and see if we can see any boats in the water, and play with your toys.

So we sat on the log. It was probably 30 feet from the water, but Matthew was still wary. I assured him over and over again that we weren't going swimming and not getting wet at all. And we sat.

And then I took off my shoes. The sand was warm and soft against my skin. I showed Matthew how I could wiggle my toes into the sand to bury them. And he took off his shoes, too! And after a moment of hesitation, he put them in the sand and wiggled his toes like me. And the issues just ... melted away.

I left the log. Scooted my way across the sand, about 3 feet, toward some rocks and shells that were nearby. Matthew followed with his little toy action figures that he had brought with him. He played with them in the sand, burying them and digging them up. Making them talk to each other and having adventures. He dug his hands deep into the dry sand and found the damp sand underneath. He made a road.

I scooted a little farther away, and Matthew followed; he never left my side. So I stood up, walked toward the water a little, and we looked for pretty rocks and intact shells. The noise of the water was just too much for him, though, so I told him to find a place to play on the beach where he was comfortable and that I would be there in a minute to play with him. And that's all it took to detach him from my hip. He found a nice little spot, plunked himself down, and played for 10 minutes without me. This is an advantage of going to the lake when it's 50 degrees outside - there was NOBODY else there. We had it all to ourselves.

After a few more minutes, it was time to head home. We gathered our things together and carried our shoes. It seems that as long as he doesn't get sand in his shoes, he doesn't mind walking in the sand. I will know next time to have him take off his shoes before we take a single step on the sand - we'll see if that helps his mood at the beginning. If it doesn't, that's okay. I know I can help him enjoy the beach, even if he is worried when we first get there.

And I know there will be a next time, because he asked me as we were leaving, "Can we come back on a different day, please?" And he was all smiles.

Me and You Friday - 12/10

Yesterday was "Me and You Day" with Matthew. I guess it sounds a little weird to dedicate a day as such, but Matthew is the kind of kid who likes to associate each day with something.

Weekends are when the girls are out of school.
Monday is Matthew and Daddy day, when he gets Tyler all to himself until the girls get home, and it's his Taekwondo day.
Tuesday is a short day at his school while I am in class.
Wednesday is a short day at his school while I study. It's also Taekwondo day.
Thursday is his long day at his school while I am in class and lab.
Friday is Me and You day.

He just needs to know what day it is (and with that comes What Time Is It? and Where Are We?) to keep himself centered. I bet he would like a calendar that he could mark the days with a big X to have a visual cue. Hmm ... maybe Santa will bring him something like that!

Anyway, yesterday was Me and You day. We headed down to Grammy's neck of the woods for lunch and then he and I went shopping together. He picked out some great little gifts for his sisters. Mancala for Hannah, Connect 4 x 4 for Clara, and Color Fillz for Rebecca.

And he picked out a coloring book for himself, ha ha. I colored with him for a while, and then he colored in that book the entire rest of the day, breaking only for supper! He was still coloring when it was time for lights out and when I got up in the moring, he was sitting in bed coloring again! He was dedicated, that is for sure. There are only a few pages left in the book that aren't colored but the desire to color has finally worn off.

How to Eat a Banana, Matthew Style

1. Drag the whole bunch of bananas to your mom and say, "NUH!" loudly to get her attention.
2. Suffer through being coached on the proper way to ask for things.
3. Say, "Peas ... have ... NUH!" and be rewarded with a banana - just what you wanted in the first place.
4. Rock back and forth on your toes and heels, squeeze your hands together, and alternate between screeching excitedly and saying, "Um, um, um!" while taking bites of the air in front of you while you wait for your mom to peel it part way and hand it to you. She's smart - she knows you would never even consider holding a banana without the peel.
5. Thoroughly enjoy eating half of the banana, saying after bites, "Nuh ... ummy!" and "I ... uv ... nuh!" and wiggling in excitement and taking little jumps.
6. Watch your dad get a powdered doughnut out of the cabinet.
7. Say, "Maff-you ... hate ... nuh!" and try to give the half-eaten banana back to your mom.
8. Turn to your dad, point at the doughnut, and say, "Share ... me!" and try to give the banana back to your dad.
9. Get frustrated. Tell your dad, frantically, "Give ... that ... me! Want ... eat!" and start to cry.
10. Throw the banana across the room and scream, "No ... want ... nuh!" and launch yourself into a fit on the floor.
11. Sit in the naughty chair for 2 minutes for throwing food.
12. When you are allowed to get up, take the banana from where your mom placed it on the kitchen table.
13. Make sure no one is looking.
14. Take a bite and smile. Say, softly, "Maff-you ... ike ... nuh!"
15. Finish the banana down to the last half-inch, happy again.
16. Throw the empty peel and the last half-inch nub in the garbage. Your mom knows you never, ever eat the last half-inch of a banana and she is OK with that.