Mountain View

Nearly every year for the past decade, sometimes twice a year, Big A and I spend a few days in the mountains. Big A proposed up there, in fact, and we thought about having our wedding there too, only the trip up would have entailed an entire weekend away, at least, for our guests.

Since Little A was one, he's been coming along. We make these family trips as often as work permits, and this year we managed to sneak away for a long weekend.

This is the second time we've taken Little A's Au Pair with us, as my dad's membership to the mountaintop's country club comes with a number of free room nights that must be consumed every year, and going up in a group is the best way to make use of them if you can't make more frequent visits.

The weather was perfect, the fresh vegetables were plentiful, and Little A enjoyed all the activities that Big A and I, and every other child of our generation, did at his age - biking in the park (Au Pair did the pedaling, Little A rode alongside), boating in the park's man-made lake, tramping around among pine trees, and looking at the horses. This is one of the few places in the country where horses can bear the weather comfortably, and riding is one of the most common tourist activities.

Little A loves watching animals, but is very wary of being too near large ones. He rode a Shetland pony once, and fell off it when it suddenly shied, and since then has been afraid to get back in the saddle. Big A wants to cure him of this fear, and helped him at least get close enough to touch. That was enough for now, and hopefully as he comes back again and again he gets a little braver each time, until he eventually has a ride.

Dog Days

Little A's class studied dogs for the past month or so. The culminating activity for this module was a field trip to a dog training and grooming centre.


For the first time in ages, I was able to see my son in his "school" setting. To my surprise and delight, he sat quietly in his seat nearly the entire time that the dog demonstration was held. He did not volunteer to interact or feed the dogs the way his other classmates did, but when students were set in pairs so the dog could jump over their legs, he indiated that he wanted to be a part of this activity.

Sadly, since there are an odd number of students in his class, Little A was left without a partner. He was assigned to give the dog his treat after it had jumped over all the pairs of student legs - a task he didn't particularly want, since he has been told by me that he shouldn't put his hand near a dog's mouth. I felt very strongly at this instance that my son was being made to stand out because he was different, and I know Little A felt this way, too.

One of his therapists told me that a mother of her other students used to cry, after sitting with the other mothers in her child's class and listening to them, every day, making play dates for their children. Her special needs child was never once invited, and she thought it incredibly insensitive of the other mothers to continually set future play dates right in front of her without even acknowledging that her child was in the same class as theirs. Too polite to speak up, she would keep a stiff upper lip until she was with other mothers of children like hers, and then break down.

I felt for her, because I, too, have heard not only the mothers or nannies, but the children inviting each other home every day after class is dismissed. No one has ever invited Little A. I try to console myself by thinking he's so busy anyway that he wouldn't have time to attend the play dates, but the truth is, I know he feels so different and left out, and my heart bleeds for him.

Lately, on his iPad, he types phrases I've never encountered in my time with him: Super Mario, Little Ponoe (for Little Pony). When I asked his teachers, they admitted that his classmates talk about these characters during free play time. Little A often sits near them in parallel play, and while he may not be able to participate in the conversations, he very obviously pays attention to them.

Only one mother so far in Little A's class has ever expressed some sort of awareness about these differences in the children. We were waiting for the class to be dismissed, and the invitable "where-are-you-applying-your-son/daughter-for-big-school" conversation came up. This mum said top of her list was a school nearby that mainstreams special needs children with regular ones, and this was precisely the reason she wanted her neurotypical daughter to attend this school, so she could be more aware of other kids and their differences. My heart warmed when I heard this, and I wanted to hug this woman I barely knew, despite the fact that neither she nor her daughter have ever asked us for a play date.

I am grateful for parents and children who recognize my son's differences and diffiulties and not only accept them but go out of their way to make things comfortable for him. There are far too few people who do. Reccently, Little A did get to attend a party play date for a friend's daughter. He didn't want to join the mayhem of the soft play centre, but he enjoyed the other activities, and gamely posed with the girls for photos at cake blowing time. Moments like those are all we need. Add up enough of them, and Little A no longer feels lonely and left out.

Some Say, Talk is Cheap

Little A is 5. He babbles, he gestures clearly, he spells and puts words together on a board logically, and verbalizes certain phrases that his caregivers understand, but as far as his annual psychoeducational assessment maintains, he still does not have fuctional speech.

According to the specialist who conducts the assessment, this is the main hindrance to Little A's "blooming" into what essentially can take him, if not off the autism spectrum, then certainly well into the high-functioning end. Naturally, any parent whose child has handicaps wishes those handicaps to be as manageable as possible, but when we consider how far Little A has come, it is a rather long way and we are incredibly glad.

These days he prefers to type. There is an app on the iPad, or he will  use Google, and as a last resort, simply type on a keyboard with the computer switched off, making sure someone stands over him to read what he spells out. He communicates efficiently this way, allowing us precious glimpses of what goes on in his very busy mind.

I've been keeping a log, and it delights me to read it over and see how he is learning to express himself better as each day passes. Here are some snippets, just as he types or spells them, with my interpretations in brackets. He hasn't yet mastered the art of leaving spaces between words:

July 20 -
ithappykownit (if you're happy and you know it, or simply, I am happy)
cuddle
huging (hugging, I assume)
gigllebeellies (I have no idea where he picked this up, but there are characters known as the Gigglebellies, apparently.)

July23 - cikkacikkaboomboom (a favourite book at the time, and videos he enjoyed on youTube)

July25 - ifyouarehappyandyoukonwit (only two letters reversed, with no help from us)

July26 -
focus (no idea how he knows this word. Maybe his teachers or therapists ask him to do so, but none have spelled it out)
eachone (apparently, he gave his teacher at school several books, and spelled for him to read each one)
roudn (round)
logn (long)

Aug2 -
countonetwothreefourfivesixseveneigntnineten

Aug4 -
cartrainbuswalk (yes, he knows how to get from Point A to Point B)

Aug8 -
cryohno
fuuldownohno (fall down, after rereading Jack and Jill for the nth time, as he loves the falling down the hill bit)

Aug9 -
soory / srroy (an apology after a tantrum, first time ever without being told to make amends)

Aug14 - (these entries inspired by a current favourite book about jazz music and animals)
sealsclappedjazz
claping

Aug15 -
swwmng askday (I want to swim, but I need to ask Daddy)

Aug22 -
pianobigbig (possibly referring to the baby grand at my parents' house)
bigbus

Aug27 -
borcken (broken)
supermario (I had to ask his teacher about this as we've got nothing at home relating to Super Mario. Apparently, several classmates were talking about it and he was playing with them and listening to their conversation, even if he didn't join in)
keycar (We need a key to ride the car)
carbooks (Let's take the car and go to the bookstore)

Aug29 -
washbut (when asked if he was done on the toilet and needed help to clean up)

Sep5 -
washbut borcken (telling his teacher that the bidet we use to wash up after using the toilet was broken)
teacherfocus (teacher wasn't paying attention to his previous statement, so he wanted her to know he noticed)

The past two days, when on the way to school, Little A's been getting my Kindle and typing "carduck" or "carschoolduck" or "carseaduck." The duck pond near my shop is nearby, so I promised him that tomorrow, when there is no school that is the first place we'll visit. He deserves a reward for communicating, after all.

It's Not Easy Being Green

Little A has a book he loves, featuring CBeebies characters Charlie and Lola, that is all about recycling. He likes that they get to plant a tree at the end of the book, but doesn't seem to grasp that "packing away" 100 plastic bottles, paper tubes and cups and tin cans to get said tree planted relates to saving our planet.

It would be nice to assume that Third World countries are generally more eco-friendly than their First World counterparts, being unable to afford many things and therefore recycling as a matter of course - handing down old or used clothing and shoes to younger siblings, cousins or the less fortunate, reusing glass jars and bottles and plastic food containers instead of throwing them away - but what keeps us thrifty also keeps us wasteful. An entire bottle of shampoo costs x amount, so instead the majority of the population (the 70% below the poverty line) simply purchase single-use sachets instead. Never mind that these end up costing more in the long run than an economy-size bottle would have done; at point of sale, when they have little to spend, these repackaged items make sense.

Ditto, drinks. Since a whole serving of soda may be out of budget, they accept smaller portions - a cupful or two - served in a clear plastic bag with a straw. All this makes for more unrecyclable waste. Not to mention allowing illegal logging to keep the economy afloat and all the rest of it.

Little A uses the same drinking bottle or cup all the time, and only draws on paper that's already been printed on the other side (store sales reports and the like). 95% of his toys are hand-me-downs, and most of his clothes are gifts. He eats jumbo boxes of cereal out of the same bowl and takes his lunch to school every day. He doesn't like fast food, nor bottled drinks. As far as carbon footprints go, his seems fairly small.

Until we get to the energy and water conservation bit. At 6pm every evening, I turn on the lights in the living and dining areas, as well as the main hallway. Lately, Little A has been "helping" by turning on the bedroom and bathroom lights as well, and then leaving the doors open so the hallway, where he plays, is brighter. We turn them off, he turns them on again. So far, being told that lights go off when no one is in the room hasn't been effective. After all, the living and dining room lights stay on even when I'm in his room with him, I can imagine him thinking. Plus, he knows that turning off the lights means it's bedtime, and if he happens not to be sleepy yet, he protests by keeping all the lights on.

Bathtimes are another thing. Little A loves showers, baths, swimming pools - bodies of water in general. When he washes his hands, he wants to leave the water running so he can dunk his plastic dolphins, fish and other sea creatures in it. Likewise when he bathes. We turn the taps off at a certain point, and he just splashes in the shallow water, but sometimes it just drains away before I can use it for handwashing or bathing myself.

I want to raise an eco- conscious child. As soon as I find a way to explain carbon footprints to a five-year old, hopefully I can.

School Blues

Little A is now officially medium-sized. In the last week he seems to have grown at least an inch, slimming out again. I never wanted to slow his childhood down before, but now, I'm beginning to wish I could. The main reason for this is that it's the time when parents of children aged 5 start the application process for "big school."

Given his special needs, there is no way Little A will be going to the school Big A and I attended, not that I wanted him to go there in the first place. At that very traditional school, a child aged six goes to school dragging a bag at least as heavy as he is, containing anywhere from 4-8 books and an equal number of notebooks. Every day, that bag goes to school and home, as they haven't heard about the concept of lockers, and the amount of homework assigned to the students makes one wonder what they actually learn in the 7 hours they spend in the classroom.

Besides that, they have absolutely no capacity, nor intention, to include special needs kids in their program.

So it will be a progressive school for us, one that offers inclusion and mainstreaming and, hopefully, some special needs support staff. The biggest problem is finding this place. The Autism Society of the Philippines does not have, or offer, a directory of schools offering special support. I've asked them, and every therapist and centre we've ever attended and others we haven't, and come up empty.

Word of mouth seems to be the only way to go. I've spoken to parents in waiting rooms, who have been infinitely more helpful than our developmental pediatrician. The problem is, all the good schools seem to be two cities away from us.

Still, I'm slowly amassing a list, and will begin scheduling visits, or just walking in, this month. I've no choice, really - all the other parents are already in the game, and I've got to catch up or Little A gets left behind. Wish me luck, or, better yet, throw me the name of a school or two.

Fabulous Five

Little A had a birthday ten days ago. Now he's five, in his last year of preschool, and animal-obsessed. He's always loved everything farm-related, but zoos and ocean animals come next on the list of nature favourites. The first words he read, and spelled, were "duck", "chicks", "cow" and "horse". Now he types out phrases - "let go (for let's go) farm", "let go zoo" and "let go school".

Since the summer, twice a week he has been going to his grandparents' house for speech therapy with a teacher who comes from further south. We meet in the middle, and he clearly loves these lessons because when they were cancelled last week due to the therapist's bout with flu, Little A was distraught. When I took him home from school instead of to his grandparents' house, he made an almighty fuss, crying and throwing a regular angry tantrum.

This week classes resumed, and he was so happy to see his teacher yesterday that he couldn't stop hugging her throughout the session. In the car en route to grandparents' house, he spelled out "go go spch" - the first time he'd asked to go anywhere apart from the zoo, farm or school. Since about the third week since their sessions started, every time he sits down with his therapist the first phrase he spells is the same - "it happy it clap," his way of saying "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." I dread what will happen when she goes on maternity leave later this year.

Five also marks our last year of early intervention. While he seems academically on track, Little A still does not speak full words or phrases and needs to improve further in terms of frustration tolerance, waiting and task completion. So, we keep on - his team is positive, and good at what they do. Let's hope everything keeps coming together, piece by piece by piece. I look at it more like a mosaic than a puzzle. It will take a long time to complete, but when it does, it will be beautiful. And along the way, the partial product has its own significance too.

School Days Again

Where did the rest of June go? A month since my last post, shame on me! But really, the month has flown by.

Mid-June marked a return to school for Little A. I was worried he'd take some time to get re-accustomed to his new timetable, as this was the first summer in three years he didn't attend the school's holiday session. To my delight, he was thrilled to be back and ran straight into his classroom without a backward glance. The hard work put in with his ABA therapists over the summer seems to be paying off too, as he has many more good days than bad ones.

Of course, life would be too dull without trips to the hospital once in a while, and about two weeks into the schoolyear I got another dreaded call - Little A had hit his head and it was bleeding. I rushed over, but for some reason, call it mother's intuition, I wasn't as bothered this time as I was when I was told about the previous head injury.

I rang Big A on my mobile en route to let him know what had happened, but he too warned me that head wounds tend to bleed a lot, and that if the bleeding stopped quickly, we should be in the clear. Little A was more angry than fearful when I arrived, because he was bothered by all the ice on his head. The wound had stopped bleeding but we were advised to seek a doctor's opinion on whether or not it needed a suture. Off we went to Accident and Emergency.

After about half an hour of waiting, and plenty of screaming when anyone wanted to look at his head, we were sent home with instructions to apply antiseptic daily until the wound dried. It was shallow, thankfully, and wouldn't require stitches or another head CT.

Apart from that incident, school has been going well on the whole, far as I can tell. This Friday is my first parent-teacher conference, and Little A's team of therapists will be in attendance, so next week I should have a clearer picture of where he, and we, are going next.