Kids at School, Part II

Sawyer enjoying the (slightly) warmer weather and a little outdoor fun at school.



At home, he is content to watch (we don't have a touch-screen computer). At school, he wants to run the show. Our second little computer man!

Special thanks to Mr. K for sharing the photos of Sawyer at school!

Kids at School

King Connor, celebrating 100 days of school with the rest of his kindergarten classmates. He wanted to know if it was all over yet, and we had to tell him no.

Connor with his good buddy (and distant cousin) J at school. They're in different classrooms, but the same complex, so they see each other most days.

Xander concentrating really hard while decorating his bag for their valentine's party on Monday.

Special thanks to Mrs. S (J's mom, who volunteers in the kindergarten complex) for the pictures of Connor, and also for Mrs. B who shared the photo of Xander in her class.

Spell Boy

Spell Boy, originally uploaded by cheryl.

For as long as we can remember, Xander has been fascinated by letters. He learned his ABCs early, long before his big brother even learned them, and he never really looked back. He's been singing the ABC song to us for a while, and he sings it fast. He can pick up in the middle or correct you if you miss something. The kid knows his ABCs.

Now he can write them. He's probably had the ability for a while actually. But he tends to be a bit of a perfectionist in just about anything he does, so it was kind of a problem. If the letter didn't look just write, his temper would kick in and he would either erase (on the MagnaDoodle) or scribble it out (on paper). He would often crumple the paper or toss whatever he'd been writing on for good measure. Did I mention temper?

Lately, he's gotten over it. The perfectionism, I mean. Not the temper. He's started writing his own letters. In perfect, alphabetical order, of course. Some of them are still kind of rough looking, but they're still legible. They are, in fact, more legible than the letters his six-year old brother scribbles on his homework.

In addition to his new letter writing ability, we are beginning to suspect that the kid can also actually read basic words. It's not surprising really, given his fascination with letters. And his ability to spell words. He's been reciting word spellings off WordWorld and other shows for years, too. That kicked in about the same time as the letter fascination.

Now he's walking up to random objects, spelling out the letters and then saying the words. Before anyone else tells him what the word actually is. His teachers tell me he likes the fire alarm at school. He walks up to it, spells out "Fire, Pull Here" and the proceeds to tell them what it says. So far he hasn't followed through, thank goodness. Though, as I told his teachers, one time would do it. He would hear that loud, screeching alarm one time, quickly cover his ears with his hands and not do it again, I'm pretty sure.

Letters. Words. Reading. All big things. Now just don't tell Connor, because he's really not going to like it when Spell Boy moves past him in the reading department. It already frustrates him that Xander walks around spelling out words and Connor can't, at least not to the same degree. I get the feeling Connor is not going to like sharing his school with brothers for the first time next year. What do you think?

So Bad, So Good

There are things that - even as we do them - we know are bad for us. Short term. Long term. All the way around, just bad for us. It doesn't always stop us from doing them.

Every night I do something that I know is setting a really bad precedent. But I'm not going to stop.

For the first couple years of his life, Sawyer was a Mommy's boy. And by that, I mean he clung to me like I was the only person who existed in the whole world. If he wanted attention, he came to me. If he wanted to be held, he came to me. And heaven help us if we decided to have a night out. I have pictures of the poor kid crying pitifully in his Grammy's arms because Mommy had the audacity to leave him. He was, simply, my boy.

And then came the regression. The loss of words, the total withdrawal from everyone and everything that started us on this journey we now know as autism. Other people he could always take or leave, everyone except Mommy. But there came a time when he didn't really care about anyone, including me.

Thankfully, we have gotten past that point. He has reattached himself to my hip as Mommy's boy, and he will also willingly engage with a select few that he knows really well. Mostly that's our immediate family and his school family (who've been with him the last three school years), but it's engagement none the less.

Sawyer is still not overly affectionate. He will occasionally give his version of a kiss - his tightly closed mouth pressed really hard on your cheek or some other part of you. He will sometimes wrap himself around your legs or hold his arms up for you to pick him up, but only for certain people and usually only when he's really tired or when he's not feeling well.

But every single night, my baby wants me to put him to bed. He wants me to go with him into his room, where he will then shut the door and pull me over to his bed. He will lay down in his customary position, on his back, feet propped on top of one pillow, laying horizontally and with his whole body curled into the solid wood headboard. He wants me to put the second pillow over his head and then cover him up with his fleece blanket.

But it's this next part that gets me.

He reaches out for me with both arms. He wants to pull me down with him, where I will wrap my arms tightly around him and squeeze him tight. He wants me to snuggle up next to him, to cover his ears with my hands. And he wants to press that tightly closed mouth against my cheek. Eventually he will settle into a comfortable position and hold onto my hand, wrapping the second arm around mine to keep it in place.

This is our ritual. Every single night that I am home (Sunday through Thursday), this is what we do. He wants me to stay with him until he falls asleep.

I know it's setting a bad precedent. I know everyone in the world would argue against laying down with a preschooler every night until they fall asleep.

I know, and I don't care.

My son is reaching out for me. My son with autism, who doesn't reach out to hardly anyone for hardly anything, wants me there with him as he goes to sleep.

Sometimes it takes five minutes. Sometimes thirty-five. Other times he's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

But it doesn't matter. I will stay there regardless of how long it takes.

It's one of our moments. And I will hold onto it as long as he will let me.

"Oh, Chutes & Ladders!"

That's Connor's newest phrase to come home from school.

I have a feeling this one may be from the teachers, but I don't really know. Kind of a creative way of voicing frustration, don't you think?

"Oh, chutes and ladders!" can be heard often in our house. Connor is easily frustrated these days.

It could be worse. Much, much worse, I suppose.