To Play or Not To Play

This morning as I was cleaning up the kitchen, I heard The Boy from the other room. Spider-Man and The Hulk were saving the day. Careening through the living room to save someone. I stopped what I was doing and I listened as he played. And I wanted to stop time. I wanted to freeze the moment and forever etch it into my memory. A moment in time to cherish. 

You see, this was the boy who had no words until he was well over 3. The child who had no imaginative play at 6 years old. None. He simply did not know how to play. We spent hours, months even, trying to show him how to play. 

Everyday after school we would take Mr. Potato Head and show The Boy how to build him. And then how to play with him. "Where would he go?" We would ask. And always the answer would be "da stowe". Because that's where we went, to the grocery store. The Boy had no imaginative play. Had no idea how to even begin. He only knew what we did, so Mr. Potato Head went to the store.

We painstakingly worked on it. Every day. We took Mr. Potato Head and the Mrs. and Jr. to the park and to the pool and to the library. All in our basement. 

And slowly, over months, The Boy began to play with Mr. Potato Head and his family. Always the same scripts that we had played out for him before. Word for word, we would hear Papa, or Mama, or Jr jump in the pool or swing on the swings or buy a pear at the store. But it was a start. An attempt at imaginative play. Something he knew and was familiar with.

So we expanded our repertoire. We played with Buzz Lightyear and Woody, Dusty and Leadbottom and Ripslinger. What would they do, we asked. And the scripts came from the movie. Nothing novel. So we offered ideas, came up with our own storylines for these beloved characters. And he watched, enraptured with what his buddies were doing. And then he would mimic. And we were so excited. Because mimicking was a new skill. We celebrate the small things. 

It took months. A year perhaps. But slowly, cautiously, he began to play. Novel story lines emerged. He expanded his characters to Paw Patrol, Jake and the Pirates, Doc McStuffins. All characters he knew from his shows. And then he began to play with stuffed animals and creates scenes outside in the yard. And when I stopped to watch or listen, I was amazed.  

This is a gift: A non-verbal little boy who, a few years later, is now playing in the living room with Spider-Man and The Hulk, creating scenarios where the hero save the day. I want to remember this forever.

A Little Bit of Patience and Kindness Please

In our town, we have a couple of thoroughfares that are heavily used. These 4 lane roads with 35 mph posted speeds (but everyone goes 40 or even 45) are in mostly commercial/business areas although there is some multi family housing in the area. As you can imagine, crossing the street as a pedestrian might be challenging at best, darn near impossible at worst. Until our city installed pedestrian crossings. These are a new addition, I think we have 5 or 6 of them now. They have greatly improved pedestrian safety. But not everyone is pleased with them as they slow the progress of the traffic. 

Yesterday as I was driving home from work, I was stopped at one of the pedestrian crossings with a car next to me also waiting. As I watched the person crossing the street, I recognized him as a Special Olympics participant. He has basketball practice at the same time as The Boy. He always says hi to The Boy and me when we see him. Clearly there is some Adult DD housing somewhere in the area as more often than not I recognize the people crossing the street as Special Olympics participants. 

This particular person, we'll call him Troy, has some ambulatory issues. So he moves a little slower than the average Joe. (Whoever wanted to be average anyway) As he was making his way in front of the car beside me, the driver honked and made gestures for Troy to hurry along. And my heart broke just a little. I tried to hide it as I smiled and waved at Troy, hoping he would think I was the one that honked. He smiled and waved back, yelling "Hi (The Boy's) mom". But I don't think he was fooled. Not for a minute. And my heart broke a little bit more. 

In that instance what I saw was my boy in 15 or 20 years. I see him doing his best to maneuver his way through this world that simply was not made for him. I see him taking care of himself, following the rules, happy with his life and in his world. I see him proudly walking back home from the nearby store with a snack paid for with his own earnings. And then I see some jack@$$ being impatient and unkind. Yelling at "the retard" to hurry up. Honestly, I go from a broken heart to my blood boiling in about 0.6 seconds. 

Sometime I want to yell from the rooftops "What is wrong with people?!?!" And I don't mean the ones with developmental disabilities. I mean all the people who are so impatient and unkind. The ones who think those extra 10 or 20 seconds affected their life. Really? What did it actually cost you to wait? Most likely nothing. But I can tell you what it cost the Troy's of the world when you treat them that way. 

It costs them their dignity. It costs them their self respect. It costs them their confidence. It costs them their ability to go out into this world which is just as much theirs as it is yours. It eventually costs them the ability to work, socialize, live even semi independently. Because if every time you venture out into the world you are treated like you don't belong, like you aren't good enough; well eventually you believe it. And then you quit trying. 

How hard is it to just be kind. Patience doesn't cost a thing. But it can sure make another person's life a whole lot more manageable, and dare I say, even better.

As Ellen says when she ends her show every day "Be kind to one another." Please.

Our Kind of Inclusion

I posted the following on my facebook page during spring break:

"I'm a mom. I worry. Its what we do. And I'm really good at it. So when I dropped The Boy off at a new day camp on Tuesday, I worried all day at work. Until I picked him up, all smiles and exclaiming it was "way fun!"

But still, a little nagging part of me worries about how much more work he is for the camp leaders, how many accommodations he needs, is he participating, interacting, if he is disruptive, etc. I realize putting my special boy in "typical" activities takes extra effort on everyone's part. Yet, I am a firm believer that this is not only good for him but necessary, and that it is good for everyone else involved especially his peers. I do recognize what we are asking of others. It does take extra effort. I sometimes wonder how much I should be asking.

Today as I dropped The Boy off at camp, the leader followed me back out of the room to say and I quote "(The Boy) is awesome. We love having him, he is so much fun." It totally made my day. Guess I'm not asking too much.

Inclusion works people, it really does."

I'm a firm believer in inclusion. For obvious reasons. But I was also a firm believer even before the bonus that is The Boy arrived in our lives. Before any diagnosis or therapies or medications or special diets or IEP's or.... When the older boys were young, I believed in inclusion because I believe its just as beneficial for the "typical" kids as it is for the kids with special needs. I wanted my boys to understand that we are, each of us, a small part of the whole called humanity and all the parts are equally important. The whole cannot exist without each part. But, that is not what I started out to write about.

Its now summer, and The Boy attends day camp throughout most of the summer. This is for 2 reasons. Practically speaking, I work part time. So The Boy needs to do something for about 4-5 hours a day. But more importantly, it is our way of keeping him engaged with others. He doesn't qualify for ESY in our district (don't even get me started on this, I'll rant for hours) so we needed to come up with some way for him to continue interacting with peers, listening and following directions, taking turns, participating in group activities, etc. Skills that he needs during the school year but that can fall behind just being at home all summer. So, day camp it is.

As he gets older and progresses, and since the camps he's attended in the past have gone so well, we've been venturing into some new territory. Expanding his camp resume so to speak. And since he loves basketball, I signed him up for a basketball camp at our gym. It was just 4 days, with a small group of 4th and 5th graders. I knew it would be a stretch. When I say The Boy loves basketball, I mean he loves to shoot baskets. And he's a really good shot. He also enjoys dribbling and passing the ball. But a scrimmage or game? Well that's just a little too much for him....at least for now. Games move too fast, his processing time is slower and he struggles to keep up, gets overwhelmed, and shuts down. The result is him standing in the middle of the court not moving as the game takes place around him. He basically becomes an obstacle for the other players to avoid.

So why would I sign him up for a basketball camp you might ask. And that's a really good question. But as I said earlier, he loves basketball. And he loves our gym. And they love him. The person who runs the youth basketball program knows The Boy, his daughter and The Boy were in the same classroom for 3 years. When I talked to the program director about the possibility of including The Boy in the camp, he was all for it. And he knows what he's getting into. 

The Boy learns a lot from observing. So we figured he would do the activities he could, hopefully attempt some new ones, and watch the ones he wasn't comfortable doing. You see, as far as I'm concerned, sometimes inclusions looks like all the kids doing the same activity. And sometimes it looks like a child doing a slightly modified activity. And sometimes it looks like a child watching his peers doing an activity he's not quite ready to participate in. And all of that is OK. It's not exclusion if the child is the one choosing not to participate in a particular activity. He gets just as much out of watching and learning and cheering for his peers as they scrimmage. 

And maybe someday he'll be ready to be part of the scrimmage. Whether he is or not is totally up to him. It does not matter to me if he ever plays in a scrimmage or a game. But as long as he wants to, I will continue to give him opportunities to learn and grow and try. Because as my Dad told me growing up "How do you know that you can't unless you try. Again and again and again." 

Wordless Wednesday - Local Wildlife