Sydney's lopsided conversations

I tried to document a lot of Sydney’s morning before school today. I haven’t done it in a while and it is always interesting. This was mostly before the medications would have begun to help her slow down and focus. I couldn’t get it all because she talks way faster than I type, but I tried to jot down the highlights. You’ll notice that I do not always respond. I would if she would pause long enough but she does not usually even wait for an answer to a question. She just jumps right to another topic.

In between a lot of these lopsided conversations she was running in circles, opening doors, counting by fives, clapping rhythms with her hands, turning on noisy toys, running in and out of her room, looking in the refrigerator, knocking on the window at the dogs, eating her breakfast, and pestering Tate.

Sydney, first thing this morning: “Mom, Does your jaw hurt?” Me: “Umm, no.” (I have not had any jaw problems…) Sydney: “Well, my shoulder hurts. Do you know why it hurts?” Me: “No.” Sydney: “I know why it hurts. Do you want to know why it hurts? It hurts with a throb.” Me: “Did you sleep on it wrong?” Sydney: “No. I think it is the bone inside of it or the stuff around it.”

Sydney: “Did you take a shower?” Me: “Yes.” Sydney: “I believe you.” My thought bubble: Oh, I’m so glad you think I am credible. Sydney: “I hollered for you and then I hollered, ‘Dad? Dad?’ and all I heard was Levi. Did Levi go to work with Dad?” Me: “Yes.”

Steve and Sydney

Sydney: “I’m so HUNGRY! Can you cut me up an apple and put peanut butter on it? CRUNCHY peanut butter.” Me: “Sure.” Sydney: “Can I feed the dogs?” Me: “Levi already did.” Sydney: “I need to see Steve.” Me: “After breakfast.” Sydney: “I’m not hungry.” Me, handing her the plate with her apple on it: “EAT THIS!” Sydney (like I’m ridiculous and she is patronizing me): “Okay. Okay.”

Sydney: “Did you want me to get up this morning or lay in my bed? ‘Cause I was awake. I checked and Dad’s clock said 7:51 [7:15 actually] but that was running too fast for me.”

Sydney (following me into the laundry room): “Can I push start on the dryer?” Me (throwing clothes into the dryer): “In a minute.” Sydney: “It sounded like there was something clinky in there. Like a penny or something.” Me: “I didn’t hear it.” Sydney: “Maybe I made it up.”

Sydney: “Why did you get me a drink of water with my pills? Now I need to potty!” Sydney from the bathroom: “Mooooooo Moooooooo Mooooooo” Me: “Sydney, please stop mooing from the bathroom.”  Sydney: “Okay Mom! I’m hurrying!” Me: “Take your time. Just stop mooing!” Sydney: “Okay!” There was silence for one minute. Then….. Sydney: “Mooooooo. Moooooo” Moooooooooooo!” My thought bubble: Why couldn’t she have liked turtles best? They are so quiet.

Sydney: “Do you know how humming birds peck at windows? Well I dreamed about humming birds and there was this woodpecker who came to my window and woke me up. I let him in and you got mad at me. You said, ‘I don’t think that is a woodpecker. It is a blah blah blah bird.’ I said, ‘it is a friendly woodpecker’ and you said, ‘it is just an ordinary woodpecker.’” My thought bubble: Even in her dreams I suck all the fun right out of everything. But I’m so confused. Was this story about a humming bird, a woodpecker, or a blah blah blah bird?

Sydney settled on black and white and it turned out great. 

Sydney (picking up a wooden cow): “I really need to paint this cow. He looks naked. I’ll paint him today after math camp. Do you know why I hate going to math camp? It is because of going to my group. ____ is in my group. He looks at me like he is mad at me.” My thought bubble: I cannot imagine why. Sydney: “Should I paint this cow brown like a Brown Swiss or should it maybe be a Holstein?”  Me: “Whatever color you want.” Sydney: “Can I use your paints or my paint?” Me: “You can’t use watercolors. You’ll have to use my paint.” Sydney: “What colors do you have?” Me: “Too many to remember.” Sydney: “I want to make it really colorful. But…. What color is an udder?”

Sydney has had swimmers ear so we’ve got drops from the doctor. I told her we needed to get the drops in her ear before school and she said: “How long do I leave my ear drops in?” Me: “Five or ten minutes.” Sydney: “So, until Nine O Ten?” Me: “No.” Sydney: “Then how long?” Me: “Five or ten minutes.” Sydney: “So when it is Nine O Ten can I get up?” Me: “There is no such thing as Nine O Ten.” Sydney: “What time is it?” Me: “Sydney I don’t know what time it is right now but ten minutes after nine is called Nine Ten, not Nine O Ten.” Sydney: “So how long do I leave the ear drops in?”  Me: “Five or ten minutes.” Sydney: “So until Nine O Ten!” My thought bubble: Where are those eardrops? I think the directions said something about leaving them in ‘til Nine O Ten. Wait….

Sydney: “When you are gone to camp I will miss you.” Me: “I will miss you too. Regan and Dad will take good care of you.” Sydney: “Why does Regan have a headache today? What is a mind-grain anyway? I have too many mosquito bites. Oh Mom! There is a wasp nest out in the chicken house. I forgot to tell you yesterday. I don’t know if it is a wasp nest or a mud dauber’s nest. Dad needs to bring that spray out there. What color are wasp nests and mud dauber nests?” Me: “I’ll show you a picture later.” Sydney: “How about now?..... Hey! What are you typing? Is that about me?” Me: “It’s time to go to school.” My thought bubble: Heaven help her teachers today.  

Want to read about other mornings we've had? Here's one: Saturday Morning With Sydney

we have to "give them a clue"

A couple of days ago, I got groceries and had just begun moving them from the cart to the van when a young man came up behind me, very quietly, and startled me. I think I actually jumped. He was waiting for my shopping cart. He works at the store and wanted to return my cart to the store for me. It would have been much more convenient for me to stick it in the cart-return next to me when I was finished, but he thought he was doing me a huge favor by standing there and waiting. He didn’t SAY he wanted to return the cart for me. He just said, “hello” and stood and waited. I could tell he had autism for several reasons. He had the awkward gait, didn’t know what to do with his hands or eyes while he stood waiting, and he had a monotone voice. It was very cold outside and I commented about the temperature. He tried to have a conversation with me about the weather but didn’t really know how. I helped him like I would my son Tate, bouncing “the ball” back to him and asking concrete questions that he would know how to answer. He reminded me so much of Tate and how he would have conversed with someone. 

Tate with Melissa, one of his first
(and best) teachers. 

Last week, our good friend Melissa visited our congregation and worshipped with us. Melissa was one of Tate’s first teachers in his early intervention program. Tate so badly wanted to have a conversation with her. He tried with, “Hey, a church building is where you go to church.” Melissa replied appropriately then Tate tried again: “A few days ago, Levi did something.” Melissa said, “What did Levi do?” Tate said, “He fixed the game cube.” Then he sauntered away without properly ending the conversation. When Tate has a conversation with someone it is usually two exchanges with him pacing back and forth in front of the person he is conversing with, or bouncing in place. The church building is a great place for Tate to practice his social skills. After many worship services I grab Tate before he bolts from the building to sit in the car, and I tell him he has to visit with three people before he can leave the building. He hates it when I do that. He usually picks the same three people, so sometimes I tell him it has to be three people he doesn’t usually talk to. The poor kid. The poor victim he chooses too! Haha They are all great sports and give it their best effort. It is just hard to get him to make any eye contact or make much sense. I’ve turned my church family into speech therapists for Tate. 

The day after I had the exchange with the young man while I unloaded my groceries, I was in another store and saw another young man with autism. This guy was probably about 15 and was there with a teacher or mentor who was supervising him. I imagine the outing was a teaching experience or perhaps a reward for something. The teacher was doing a fantastic job of modeling appropriate behavior for the student. I did not gawk but I was in the same vicinity for quite a while so I listened. The student bounced on his toes when he walked, much like Tate does, and he had trouble knowing what topics were appropriate for conversation. He talked at length about his high score on “Bop-it” and he wanted to talk at length about a brand of bread that he didn’t often see on store shelves. I imagine the teacher was having a hard time keeping a straight face part of the time because the bread topic was so far out there. Tate does the same sort of things. He has no idea what is appropriate to talk about and what is not. He has no idea what kinds of things are interesting to other people and what things are not. 

Tate has announced to his peers at school before that he was going to take a shower when he got home and he sometimes tells his teachers he had a shower that morning. We’ve tried to teach him that other people don’t really care to hear about his showers. He recently tried to start a conversation by telling one of the staff at school that her skin looked old. She is a young woman, quite pretty, and she handled it very well but we all had a good laugh over that one later. A day or two after that incident Tate had a substitute in his classroom that was elderly and her skin was wrinkled. I was so worried about what their day was like. If Tate said anything inappropriate, I didn’t get to hear about it. I wanted to be a fly on the wall that day. On Veteran’s Day, the school invited local veterans to come and have lunch with the students. Tate walked into the office with his para, looked around at several older folk gathered in the office, and started to speak. Tate’s wonderful, insightful, wise para, quickly said, “Tate, think about what you are going to say, before you say it.” Tate said, “Oh, never mind.” Tate just calls it like he sees it, as do most people with autism. 

Tate’s Resource Room teacher and his Speech Therapist are always working hard on teaching conversation starters and how to sustain a conversation. It just doesn’t come naturally to a kid with autism like it does the rest of us. They are teaching him how to tell a joke and the poor school secretary has heard a joke a day for most of the year now. She is so accommodating and laughs for him. She is worth her weight in gold and a huge part of his day.

I cannot imagine how confusing it must be to live in Tate's world. I remember once saying something about "laughing my head off" and Tate coming over to me to inspect my neck. He needed to make sure my head was still attached. Recently someone commented on being "ate up with chiggers" and Tate looked extremely confused.  

We are all working on figurative language. Each week, Tate’s Resource Room teacher sends me a list of three to five new idioms or cliché’s they will be working on that week so I can reinforce them at home. It is so cool when I hear him use one of those at home. He has learned things like “I’m on fire” and “under the weather” and “letting the cat out of the bag.” These are the things that we all understand when we hear them due to the context. They have to be taught, systematically, to a person with autism. Otherwise, they will not “have a clue” what you are talking about.

If you have not ever read, Seeing Ghosts, then click on the link and enjoy. 

Find me on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. Like what you read? Want to become a follower? Click on the Google Friend Following gadget on this blog. It's over on the right side and asks you to subscribe. Or you can add the URL (the web address in your search bar) to your Reading List. You can do that by clicking the plus sign in front of the URL. Thanks!