A few weeks ago Henry’s tutor took him to the outdoor swimming pool, a place he loves. He starts saying ‘swimming’ the moment we put the picture on his visual timetable and this is continued at regular intervals, reaching a peak on the walk there, like a constant check that he’s actually going. On this particular occasion they arrived at the pool, Ellie helped him change and then looked in her own bag – to find no swimsuit. They had to pack up again, walk into town, buy a swimsuit in a crowded, noisy sports shop and walk back again. All of which Henry managed without a tantrum or a single head-hit.
I’ve told this story many times (apologies to family and friends reading this!) as it amazed me. Henry, like most autistic children, does not like plans to be thwarted. He is not a fan of shopping. He particularly dislikes waiting while people choose what they want to buy – any shopping trips with him are usually of the grab and run variety.And although he understands the ‘first X, then X’ formula, it doesn’t seem to make it any easier to cope with the prospect of deferred pleasure.
To be honest I thought it was a one-off, but in the weeks since this happened we’ve had more examples of an increased flexibility, an acceptance of unpleasant situations and a willingness to wait for the things he wants. So much so that I feel able to invoke the Bloggers Curse (write about a positive change and it immediately vanishes, never to return…)
Food has always been a potential flashpoint. Henry’s day is structured around his meal and snack times and, possibly because of blood sugar issues, he can get very agitated if a particular food is unavailable or a meal delayed. When he was at school his favourite word was ‘lunch’ – they heard it a lot. Two weeks ago we started going to the special school he will be attending in Year 7 for some transition activities, one of which is the midday meal. We arrived early and Henry immediately sat down at the empty Key Stage 3 table, looking expectant (and yes, repeating ‘lunch….lunch….lunch’.) As I was saying ‘ Let’s wait for the other children’, a TA told me that the students have set places and as she didn’t usually sit on that table, she couldn’t remember exactly who sat where. It was a dilemma, as neither of us wanted Henry to be upset at having to move, yet we didn’t want the pupils’ routine disrupted either. It was worth a try – “Let’s go and wait on the bench until the other children come in”. And he did. No problem. Definitely one of those proud mother moments.
At half term we experienced the ferry trip from hell when travelling to the Isle of Wight on a rainy, windy Friday: no seats, people packed into every spare inch of space , babies crying, a constant loud buzz of conversation, no electronic gadgets. He sat with us on our allotted three foot square of carpet in between the car deck stairs and the life-jacket cupboard and ate crisps with his fingers in his ears – resigned, not enjoying himself, but calm.
I am wondering at the reasons behind these changes. His sensory defensiveness has definitely decreased since we started home education – I am even wondering if its too far-fetched to suggest that all the ‘noisy’ games he loves have acted to desensitise him to sounds he used to find uncomfortable? Intensive Interaction has had a huge effect on his trust in us – maybe he’s prepared to prepared to wait because he is confident he’ll get what he wants in the end?
As I type this, Henry has just finished his lunch, which included a tiny portion of carrots, peas and sweetcorn – the first separate, non-disguised vegetables he has eaten for six years. I am giving him a piece of flatbread for every cube he swallows, but a few months ago this wouldn’t have made any difference – he would have ignored the flatbread and dropped the veg on the floor, or become very upset at not being allowed the bread on its own. He’s not loving the veg – far from it – but he’s prepared to give it a try to get something he wants. I’m hoping the love will develop!
It’s not all tranquility by any means, as anyone within 100 metres of a certain hairdressing establishment yesterday will testify. There are still some situations which Henry finds very difficult to cope with. But afterwards, when we went next door to the newsagents to buy his post-haircut bag of crisps and they didn’t have any ready-salted, he accepted my assurance that we would go to another shop without any fuss at all, despite the fact that he had been very agitated only moments before.
This weekend we are taking him to a wedding, his first ever. Watch this space…