"Kitty" or When Will I Ever Learn?

A lot of my time with Janey is spent doing what she calls "Snuggle on Mama's Bed".  It's in fact her bed, not mine, but we do snuggle.  Generally, we just lie there next to each other and talk.  Or I talk, and sing, and tell stories, and read books, and so on, and Janey smiles and laughs.  She talks very little, most of the time, but she's very happy to just be there together.

Sometimes, this snuggle time can start to feel like a one man show.  It's a very well received one man show, but still, at times I feel like I'm running of material, and I wonder if it really makes a difference what I say or do at all.

Last night, after a good long time snuggling, I said to Janey "You know, I know in your mind you are thinking a lot of things, and listening to what I'm saying, and maybe wanting to ask me things, but you aren't saying them out loud.  I can't hear inside your head.  I can only hear things you say. I love to hear you talk.  If you said 'Kitty' right now, I'd be very, very surprised and happy!"

Some background---Janey loves me to act surprised.  I'll often go through pretend emotions while we're cuddling, saying that I'm going to show happy or sad or angry, but her favorite is always surprised.  I'll ham it up, opening my mouth wide and waving my arms around.

For a few minutes after I talked, Janey just looked at me with a huge smile.  And then she quietly and sweetly said "Kitty!"

Of course, I played it up---a huge show of surprise.  She smiled her huge, wonderful smile.

And then, as I so often do, I had to push her.  I said "You know, if you said the name of one of your brothers, I'd be VERY VERY surprised!"

I hate it when I do that.  And I'm always doing it---looking for just a little more, trying to force Janey to prove again what she just proved, what I already know, that she's almost always listening and understanding what I say, whether she shows it or not.

After I said the brothers line, I saw the look that breaks my heart, the look that shows she's shutting down.  Her eyes lose their glow, and look away.  She looks not happy but instead tense, worried.  She sees that now we aren't playing a fun game, but instead are in the midst of quiz time, testing time.

We stayed there cuddling for maybe ten minutes more, and she never did say "William" or "Freddy".  I made myself stay quiet.  Finally, I said "William and Freddy!  That's the names of your brothers!"  But still, she had the tense look.

Why do I do that?  I KNOW she knows her brothers' names.  I KNOW she listens to me.  Why do I have to get it proven to me, at the cost of her happiness?

And of course this relates to the problems with ABA type programs.  They are all dependent on the child having to prove over and over and over and over that they do know what they know.  In a way, they seem especially designed to torment kids like Janey.  I don't think all kids with autism are like Janey is, in her strong negative reactions to being quizzed, tested on what she's already shown to know, but I think a lot of them are.  Once Janey knows something, she knows it.  She's shown over and over that she doesn't forget anything.  But she's not always going to perform on demand.

I'd like to say I'll never make the mistake I made last night again.  I'd like to think I've learned, and I'll stop pushing her to re-prove she is listening.  But I will probably do it again.  I'm a slow learner, and I don't always remember what I've learned, unlike my sweet girl.

Three Surprises in Ten Minutes

Janey has been tough lately.  She's been wearing us out, trying out patience, discouraging us a good deal.  Last night was no exception.  She was cranky, volatile, angry, and we were tired out of our minds.  And then, within a very short period of time, she surprised us with her unique and her quirky language three times, and left us laughing instead of crying.

The first incident stemmed from her love/hate relationship with "Little Bear".  Little Bear is one of the mildest TV shows you could ever watch, a sweet story of the adventures of a human-like bear, his family and various other animal friends.  We really don't get why Janey is so worked up by it.  She asks to watch it constantly.  When we put it on, she will watch about 5 minutes of it and then blow up, always.  She freaks out spectacularly and gently or not turns off the TV.  Last night followed that pattern.  She asked for it, we said as we always do "But that show makes you very upset!  Do you PROMISE not to hit the TV or scream if we put it on?"  Yes, we are suckers.  We know her promises are not sincere, but we give her another chance, over and over.  We put it on, and the same thing happened that always happens.  She screamed after a few minutes and slammed her hand into the TV to shut it off.  Tony told her to go to bed (it was close to bedtime) and said "I am not proud of you!"

That's when she surprised us.  She said back, in a voice familiar to parents of preteens everywhere "I am not proud of you either!"  We looked at each other astonished, and couldn't help starting to laugh.  It was so unexpected, but at the same time, so typical of a child her age.  I'd never heard her use the world "either" before, and she rarely responds to anything in that kind of sentence.  We were frankly delighted.

However, she was still supposed to stay in her bed.  We lay down with her, trying to get her to sleep. She faked being ready to sleep for a few minutes, and then surprised us the second time.  Using a sing-songy silly voice, she said "I have to go potty.  I want to make a stinky.  I need to make a poopy.  I want to have a....(imagine her going on and on for about 10 different words that are euphemisms for needing to use the bathroom)"  We had no idea she even knew some of those terms.  And we were fairly sure she didn't actually have to use the bathroom in that way, as she already had just a bit earlier, but she knows the one thing that will always allow her to get out of bed.  So I took her in, and of course, it was a ruse, but still...we again were shaking our heads and chuckling.

When she was back in bed, surprise number three came along.  She said, in a slow and careful voice "acetaminophen".  We had given her generic Tylenol over the weekend when she was banging her head and it appeared she had a headache, and she had learned the name somehow from our talking to each other.  We asked her if she wanted acetaminophen, and she said yes.  We were, again, shocked.  It's not an easy word, and not one she's heard a lot.

All three of these happenings illustrate what is so fascinating and at the same time frustrating about Janey.  She doesn't learn in traditional ways.  You can plug away at trying to teach her the most basic things for literally years, and she shows no sign of having learned them.  Or she learns them and then seems to forget them, like with writing her name.  But inside her head, there is so much going on, and when the time is just right, it comes out, giving us a tantalizing glimpse of a Janey we wish we could see more often.

Strange Attractors

Although Janey will often ignore things that you want her to focus on, once in a while, she is strangely attracted to certain objects.  She will find them wherever they are, and will resist all attempts to keep them away from her.  This year, it was one present under the tree.  It was for Tony, and was wrapped in the same paper as many of the other presents, was a simple box shape, was nothing that stood out in any way.  But as often as I put it back under the tree, she took it out, held it and then moved it to a new place.  She didn't try to open it---she just was drawn to it in the wrapped form.  Today, I realized Tony never opened that present, because by Christmas it was no longer under the tree.  It's no longer anyplace that I can locate.  It's very possible that it wound up in the trash, as sometimes that is a place Janey puts objects she is interested in.  I got a brand new pair of sneakers a few years back that she took a fancy to.  I only wore them once before one of them disappeared, and despite a housewide search, was never seen again.  I think it had that same fate as the present.

Lately Janey has been drawn to my camera.  I tell her "THAT'S A NO!" in a loud voice whenever she gets close to it, but usually if she grabs it, she just holds it.  I had no idea she actually knew how to use it, not until a few minutes ago, when I heard a tell-tale "swoosh" sound it makes to imitate the old time sound of film being advanced.  Janey was standing next to me taking a self-portrait.  I took it away, spoke to her firmly, but couldn't resist seeing what she had taken.  Several of the picture were of her finger firmly pressed against the lens, which is just the reason she can't use the camera, but 3 or 4 were pictures of herself.  That impressed me a little---she knew how to turn on the camera, knew she needed to turn it around to take a picture of herself, and even kind of how to frame the picture.  I might get her her own heavy duty kids camera.  In the meantime, here's a few of the self-portraits...