Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Tiny tidbits

T had to leave early this week. So I pick Sturla up early. Perhaps I have to learn how to let go a little, allow others at playschool to have a chance to be with him. I am not sure he is ready, I am not ready. So I do not.

He did not feel well yesterday and his behavior was really strange. Aggressive and clingy. I thought he had a fever but he never ever does, only his hands were strangely, mysteriously warm and then they are not anymore.
I now and then get a strange feeling that something is off in his system but I have nothing to go on. In between I think I must have imagined it all.
He looks healthy enough.
Today he was better, happy, energetic.
He woke up smiling and pretended to fall dramatically off the bed. "OH are you hurt?" I asked matching his drama. I saw a slight struggle on his face as he tried to look the part but could not. His face a big smile. "yes I hurt".
Oh well, off to play school sweetie.
I pick him up at four and finish the the rest of his program, there is not much left as T really worked hard with him today. She looks tired, he does not.
We spend a lot of time on drawing. He has really begun to love drawing. He imitates me and I try to expand the way he uses the line and combines the forms. He is getting so much better at controlling the pen. I then try to let him see how I can imitate him.
We pick up dad downtown and go shopping for easter eggs. Big chocholate easter eggs filled with sweets and amusing proverbs. We buy an extra one and eat it together after dinner with his brothers and watch Jumanji until it is bedtime. He complains as he wants to watch the whole film but he is losing his concentration, rubbing his eyes.
So, no mercy.
New day tomorrow and so much work to do.

Monday, March 29, 2010

ABA a fork in the road and a slight emotional eruption

ABA is a teaching method. It is a tool and a method with a certain structure. That is pretty much it. Every parent uses some of its methods in parenting. Except we do not normally have this intense structure in our parenting.

Before we started I was deeply worried, I read all that criticism, all those exclamations about robotic behavior, dog training, aversives, constant demands and so on and so on.
I was afraid. My son seemed so easily upset so sensitive, so emotionally vulnerable. I began anyway. My fear quickly subsided.
There was not much else to do. The other road I could have taken was TEACCH. I was not impressed.
Frankly there was no way I was going to let my kid function on written schedules the rest of his live. I looked closely into it and in spite of all the playing and all the very imaginative solutions for each problem. It was all about patching it up as you went along. Offering crutches instead of putting the leg in a cast so it could heal.
Fitting your live around the problem. My child.
I want results, progress, a solution I want hope for my son.
When I read about the results ABA offered in comparison with the TEACCH method the way it works in Iceland and when I saw studies of the progress kids in ABA programs offered by the playschools compared with the other method I was deeply angered. How come this information is not offered immediatly when your child is diagnosed, how come parents have to become clinicians and scientists and look for the right thing to do.
How come we have to be right all the time and be the ones to carry the guilt if we choose wrongly. If there was something else going on with my son I would have a team of doctors working with us using their expertise and knowledge of scientifically proven methods.
That is a whole other thing.
Society is telling me that my child is not worthy of science. Not worthy of the best practices. Not worthy of the highest potential.
My anger has been brewing for quite some time. Not only because I had to dig up all the scientific information myself and not only because it was luck that steered me here and there and towards the methods that give us the tools for progress. I am angry on behalf of all those who have not access to the best. I am mad because in a society where there is good educational system and social security, disability is second class.
The dirty word is money.
Disabled people are not considered contributors to our society and lets face it money makes the world go around.
Actually someone made a cost analysis for Iceland and guess what, it pays off to give everyone the best practices. It pays off in very hard very real cash.
So what is the problem?
If higher quality of life for the disabled individual and his or her family is not a fundamental factor. Money surely should be. Resources are limited that is a fact as cruel as that may seem.
Could it be that society does not believe investing money in disabled people can pay off in spite off this very convincing cost analysis.
Have children with disability already been swept of the chess board as none important players because society refuses to let go of the idea that there is no hope for disabled individuals.
I am angry because in the same time we limit the progress for many children who may become independent in the future we at the same time limit the resources for people with more severe problems and this is just so much waste, waste, waste.

Stupid society.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

The good and better and the best, not necessarily in that order.

I need to take count of good things.
Happy moments.
Family stuff.

My ten year old told me he is in love. He felt secure enough to tell me. Shy with his dark straight hair covering his green eyes and heavy eyebrows. This week is dedicated to secret friends at school. They pull names out of a hat and try doing something nice for a secret friend every day.
He was lucky and drew his love out of a hat.
I helped him prepare and wrap some sweets and stuff to give her.
It amazes me how strong he seems to be in the group.

I watch my daughter grow up. She is almost all done so to speak. She is doing it on her own mostly. Sailing so easily trough her studies. playing all the instruments she cares to practice and singing as well. I like her friends. I like it when she brings home some silly American shows and wants to watch it with me only so we can cuddle up together and do very much nothing at all.
I enjoy the way hubby scowls at our idleness and how he joins us when we settle for something slightly more interesting in his opinion.
She is a teenager with all the mood swings that come with it, but when the sun shines in her world we all get warm.

My eight year old is turning into a bookworm. He does not hear or notice anything else when reading. I see myself. When I take his book for the third time and remind him to finish dressing or eating or whatever he is doing. He stomps his feet angrily and I face my own stubbornness.
He was a late talker and showed great skills in drawing at a very young age. His drawings are still advanced. I also once wondered if he heard properly. He did.
In class his teacher tells me he gets along with everyone that he is a really easy kid to teach and be with. He does his stomping at home apparently. I guess he is doing fine.

Six years old is still very little. He is sweet and gentle a born diplomat. They have each other my very much in the middle children. Best friends and do everything together.
I look forward to easter vacation. I think they need to be doted on.

I will forget the label, the terrible outcome of that blasted baileys scales of infant development the ados points and all those thirty five points on CARS, the lack of language, the blank stare when faced with a question and the idle pacing in certain situations and remember that I have a child that is emotionally connected. I have a child that sheds tears when his mother cries and actively tries to comfort her. My child that has just started to draw is mostly preoccupied with drawing faces and faces with moods showing. He has started to say "come look". Dragging me from the kitchen to see a face he drew. "Look he is sad".

That truly makes a mom glad.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Curriculum update.

Yesterday we regrouped with our counseling team. I am always a bit stressed out before those meetings. I want to show a clear picture of how things are going and then I have to be prepared and ask the right questions about where and how to proceed. Five weeks passed between this meeting and the last and now we are on our own for the next two months. Seems like ages to my overly impatient mind.
Anyways we prepared updates and graphs of how things were going. The data looked good and showed stable progress.
T has become quite good at her training technique. She gets better and better. No wonder, she has the right frame of mind in seeking criticism and in trying to improve herself in what she does.
We have been together in this for a year now. She came to my house on her bicycle when I was looking for someone to take on a few hours when we were starting our aba therapy. It was windy and ice cold, she had windblown hair and very red cheeks. I liked her instantly.

She does not sit quietly on her opinions and is very enthusiastic about the possibilities of behavioral analysis. She is exactly what we needed.
She told her supervisor at the play school about the Loovas study, and when her supervisor said she did not believe it possible that such big gains could be made and that children became indistinguishable from their peers
T bluntly answered that it did not matter one little bit what she believed. This was a scientific study and it had been repeated several times the last 25 years. Her believes were of no consequence.
I am very happy to have her youthful optimism and energy on our side. Unwittingly she often reels me in when I am feeling down. By reminding me of possibilities and potential and filling me with hope.

As I try to keep my feet on the ground ( you know being a grown up and trying to be sensible and trying not to be disappointed, protecting myself) it is so much more fun to keep my head in the clouds and reach for the stars.

High hopes may come crashing down very hard and fast. But I will not let my fright of hights deter me from reaching for the glitzy stuff.
We have already crashed.
The only way is forward.

We are still working on conversation. Now we are beginning to chain together all the learned phrases. He is not stuck in static learned phrases but is already generalizing it somewhat. But fluency is needed. I think I need to spend more time in this part of his program. It is vital that he uses the words, the language. Getting more words out, speeds up the flow. We will chip this dam away piece by piece until there is no more stopping it (hopefully).
We are taking in negative statements more informative statements and then chaining together. It needs to flow fast. Then we go on to asking questions.
His peers do not wait.. they are impatient little people. They go on to their own stuff and interests and do not wait for those who cannot keep up.
It is a fact.

LANGUAGE I want it so badly, this chit chat and blabber and all that blah blah. Silence is not gold in my world.

Recall will take the place of first last sequencing. The aim is to remember and talk about what has just happened. And then expand it over longer time periods.

Imaginary play. Yes finally.
This will hopefully be his ticket into peer play. What is also very important is that his brothers can have a role and participate more. We will take it step by step. Simple acts of imagining then chaining together, building scripts and finally building on each others ideas.

What people work at. It is quite funny he can now identify 16 different professions it is more than his brothers. The difference is that his brothers look at the pictures and describe what they see and make sense of it by instantly connecting it to other things they know and other ideas. Sturla is, well no surprise there, more literal he learns the words He is an astronaut, she is a teacher, he is a car mechanic et cetere. Then we tell him what they do, and then we try to generalize.
We are mowing over to something more age appropriate like kings and princes and batman and spiderman and pirates and other vitally important stuff that is useful in imaginary play. We are making a list of age appropriate interests.
Checking out what the other boys in play school do.
Gender equality has to wait.
This is what boys do. Do it.
Not that he needs to be prompted much. Rough play is very much loved.

Purpose of things.
What is for cutting? Scissors
What do you do with scissors? Cut.
We are almost done

Letters. Two more weeks is my estimate. He likes letters and points them out to me. I will also implement letters into drawing. And then we take numbers.

Personal pronouns. We are getting there. Language is our slow lane...

What is missing. We have five items on the table now. When he gets good at that and when it is enough for him to scan the table, we are done. This has many opportunities for great games.

Drawing. He drew a person with eyebrows of all things ( great eye for detail). Then he said the figure was angry as the eyebrows hung low and ominous on the face.
Connecting forms and simply practicing the drawing movements is the main objective for this part.
The main objective for his program at he moment, is to expand language and then increase peer play. It has to be worked on simultaneously.

My purpose will also be increasing the connections between my children and helping my older sons to connect with his brother.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

The golden shoes mystery

Last weekend my darling son brought a pair of golden shoes to my bed and attempted to dress my very sleepy feet where I lay upside down Pippi longstocking style due to a superfluity of wriggly legs and squirmy toes in my bed.
I tried to please him and wore the golden shoes until lunchtime.

This morning he found them again, and as I sipped my coffee I was transformed quite suddenly into this very stylish sleepy eyed princess with golden shoes. I still have not taken them off. Gold shoes truly add some zest to an otherwise disheveled morning.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.
Does he like the way they look or is the reason maybe that when I wore them last time there was a birthday party in the house.
He loves birthday cakes and candles and singing the birthday song.
But I do not know.
He does not do this on ordinary weekdays.
I wish he could tell me.

Learning how to answer questions is getting very pressing.
I need to know.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Still on hours

This sounds to me like essence of it. It is really all about every waking moment and getting into a kind of lifestyle that encourages learning at all times.
My luck my daughter is at home to fix the link. I really have to brush up on computer skills.

Dividing the time.

There are only 24 hours in the day. And my son sleeps almost half that time. He needs it. I dislike having to wake him up. Sleep is to be respected, I like my sleep. I like him sleeping. It is essential to well being and to learning.
Ho ho ho.
The never ending learning process and the never ending obsession with speeding up the learning process.
That leaves 12 hours of waking time during the day. He gets between 35 and 40 hours of Aba. That leaves very little time for anything else. It means 7 hours a day six days a week. He also needs leisure time. He needs going to the pool and riding his bike and sliding and swinging. He needs time to settle into his own thoughts. He needs time to process all that information that is beeing stuffed into his head.
Those 35 40 hours need to be divided into learning new skills and into maintaining and generalising already learnt skills. Maintenance and generalizing are just as important as learning new stuff.
Believe me there is a reason I am writing this down I need to be reminded.
The truth is, he is so often dooing so well at the table in his discrete trials that stepping down and dooing it all over in other situations often seems a step backward.
It is not true of course.
It is a step forward.
Environmental teaching and bonding through play is no less important. Floortime and Rdi have given me countless ideas of making it all into a play,
Play and the importance of facial expressions.
Actually is is amazing to see him on occasions scrutinizing my face as if he is trying to drag the correct answear out of me with his look. I have to be very careful not to give it and sometimes i fail, be it my expression or body language.
It is ironical... I want him to learn to read body language and facial expression.
Those discrete trial sessions are intense one on one. He does get better at reading me that is for sure. I am just nor teaching it directly.. it is a byproduct.
The fastest way to learn something new is teaching with discrete trials. Reward with playful episodes of already taught skills. But it is only the half of it the next step is generalizing with play and environmental teaching.
The thing is ...
my challenge is wanting more new things...
Who does not. ( We are all consumers)
I have to remind myself that the old stuff needs to be worn and used until it fits perfectly. Like a favourite shoe, it has to fit so well that it becomes a part of you.
So how to divide the time?
As we go further into this program the need to maintain skills grow. He learns fast but he will also forget fast if the skill is not used. Stands to reason.
I can see how he enjoys new things when he has got a glimpse of how they work. So in expanding interests it is tempting to go on and on... I can also see how he finds it easier to maintain attention after almost eight months of redirecting his attention to the right things.. He needs that constant reminder of following through, be it ideas or directions. It is an attention training... We have our share of adhd to be sure.
To get to the point. I have to do more maintenance and I have be systematic about it so i will nor forget anything.
And I guess I have to be more fun, fun, fun.
If there is some desperate tone leaking in, it is because I did not get my sleep last night.
A king size bed is not big enough for this family.
Or maybe it is just that I am trying to figure out what I do wrong. It is kind of depressing. Useful but depressing.

Monday, March 15, 2010

At random, news, memories and thoughts

When Sturla woke up last friday he could not use his left leg at all. I have seen this before with my oldest son and did not overly worry it has do do with swelling in the joints and happens occasionally. I knew he needed to be Xrayed and that blood samples needed to be taken, if the joint gets infected, that is bad... joints are not dispensable.
Four hours at the childrens hospital and guess what the verdict was... It will pass.
It did.
On saturday he hobbled around like an old man.
I watched him hobble into the garden straight ahead.
Oh no,where is he going.. I am still on red alert watching, afraid he will go right ahead as far as the horizon and that I will loose him.
I am afraid I will loose him on so many levels.
He has a history of getting lost.
Some children were playing with a ball. Ten or nine year old kids. Completely out of his league.
He hobbled on, the ground was uneven, wet dirty. He had a goal to reach, I could see that now.
He fell, unable to get up as he could, only use one leg properly.
A friend of ours had been with him in the garden picked him and carried him to the house where I had been watching by the window.
I pulled of his dirty clothes by the open door and he stuck his head out and yelled as loudly as he could. Bye kids! They took no notice.
He noticed.
He cared.
He called out his greeting.

The latter evaluation leading to his diagnosis took place on his third birthday. I thought it was in bad taste. It was day already laden with emotion. This was not what i would have wanted to give him.
The lady was soft spoken. Pity in her eyes. I could not stand her cushioned voice or her look.
I had no good reason for disliking her.
She was not to blame. I just hated the fact that this had to be done. I was not grateful. I was angry.
She picked up a wooden stick. Then she made it fly like a plane. Can you do this she asked. He picked up the stick and did what she asked. Then she did it again.
He looked at her. Then he grabbed the stick and rolled it smoothly, quickly over to her side of the table and his eyes said it all.
Such scorn and disdain.
From a three year old.
I know he got a point on the ados for this one.
I was filled with pride. He gave the look I wanted to but did not dare to.
My wonderful smart thoughtful son.
Balm on his mothers vanity.

We had a meeting with an OT last week. I got this evaluation with the thought that perhaps she would see or notice something that I did not. Well she did not and that was kind of nice.
He does not know how to use scissors that was more or less all that came out of it. He needs practice with fine motor movements his delays are due too, well... not doing the stuff he ought to be doing like cutting with scissors.... You know, narrow interests and all that.
What is this?
Obsession with scissors for people this developmental delays business.
Personally I do not care if he cuts with scissors at five, four or six years old. he will do so eventually. I am not going to spend a lot of time practicing it.
Scissors are not our priority.

She thought his imitation skills a strength. Ha ha.
That was nice to hear.
They were not that strong a year ago.

It took two days to teach him to imitate the first double gross motor movement.
Do this: clap
Do that: clap hands on thighs.
Drilling. Drilling. And drilling. Did I mention drilling
Now he imitates triple movements, any new movements I can think of, crossing arms, standing or sitting.
This did not happen out of the blue We practice motor movements every day and have done so for the last nine months. I always make him do something be it only for two or three minutes every day.
The whole program is practice in some kind of imitation
Imitation is a powerful tool.
He has to know how or else he has no choice.

Compliance and conformity. Pushing that round peg into that square hole. This is bad imagery. We are not wood, we are not pegs. We humans are not solid material. We change, we age we grow up. The young baby does not have the same brain he was born with. I know of a boat in the far north that is three hundred years old. Every board has been changed over the ages. Every piece of rotten wood has been replaced. It is still the same boat and it can sail as well as three hundred years ago.
I want a certain level of compliance from my children. It is for their own safety.
I want a certain level of conformity as well.
We are herd animals. We make societies and we live together.
I also want them to say no to defy the rules to be able to go against the herd, to take a moral stand. I want them to be able to make moral choices. I want them to say no, and know why they say no. I want them interested in the world at large, the planet, the variety in life. The difference between societies.
But first they have to comply and conform and imitate.
They have to know how, or else they have no choice.
So it is all about.
Do your homework.
Clap your hands.
Kiss your granny.
Say thank you.
Tidy your room.
Do this.
Do that.

And sweetheart.
When you know how, lets talk about, why and why not.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Striking up a conversation.

To make a short story shorter.
We went to see my cousin and her kids.
Walking up to her house, we met a man.
Sturla stopped and said Hi.
The man said. Hi, is it fun to walk in the puddles?
(Then he noticed that Sturla had his right shoe on his left foot and commented on that)
Sturla ignored this part of the conversation and continued with his own agenda.
We are going to J, he said.
Oh, the man said. Have fun.
You bet we did.

Small steps, little tiny small steps, they all add up.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Culinary crusades

Diet, nutrition, input, output.
Scrutinized to shreds.
I still cant wrap my brain around it, what is all right and what should be avoided. I am getting pretty exhausted avoiding everything and bringing little doggy bags for every outing. I am actually getting so tired of it that, those bags keep being forgotten and are not brought at all. So Sturla is eating more or less (read it as sort of more) what is available and frankly I cannot see him complaining.
Not verbally and what is more important not physically.
Two and a half years ago we tried the GFC diet. We stuck with it about six months and I did not see any change in him. So we abandoned it. I still had the feeling that something was not as it should be. He had excema and hives every now and then, and then there was this bizarre eye blinking and spacing out. He was also a bit constipated and he would rub his mouth a lot.
Or press his mouth up against other surfaces my cheek mostly.
Sweet, but he was not kissing me, he was rubbing his mouth on my face. On top of it he would often lie with his belly down in a fetal position, and not budge. He seemed to have no energy and at other times he was all over the place.
I searched the internet high and low, there was this and there was that and frankly blah blah blah... this is so scary.
What to try, what to pick. Better be safe than sorry.
I ran across something called the scd diet. Sounded very fascist to me. But what do you do or rather what would one not do in extreme situation.
I ran across something very similar called the gaps diet. Even more strict but with a few tvists.
I decided to see a doctor to check out possible allergies. Nothing turned up. He had low levels of IEG and AEG though. Low levels not below. The doctor happened to have worked once before with atistic children having gastro intestinal trouble. He gave us medication. Flagyl and fungoral to be exact. And recommendd his immune levels be checked again.
I did not like what I read about fungarol and flagyl. Flagyl especially This medication is aimed at killing off bacteria like clostridia in the gut.
I swallowed my qualms.
And decided that we would dive in head first and started the diet as well. What would be referred to as the taliban diet in this house. Gaps and medication at the same time.
He got sick, I got scared.
He got fever and every strange behaviour he had ever exhibited turned up and a few that I had not seen before. Toe walking, hand flapping, you name it he was a textbook example of every autistic kid I have ever read about.
And he rubbed and rubbed his mouth.
He got a fever, the excema worsened, hives.
I talked with the doctor he called it die off symptoms. So we stuck it out. The first week was really bad and the second better and the third better still.
The diet allowed fresh fruit, vegetables meat and fish, nuts seeds. No sugar no starch ( not even vegetables that contain too much starch) It recommended everything cooked from scratch, so I boiled bones to make broth ( which is actually a fabulous idea).
We made and still make juice with fruit and vegetables for breakfast, in it I add probiotics and egg yolks.
The first days after the medication was finished he gained energy and his mouth rubbing quit. Two weeks later he combined two words.
I scrutinised his skin and poop.
Very interesting indeed.
For the first week or so, his poop smelled like fresh fruit. Then as he began eating more, and accept the new food I gave him I got another thing to worry about, now his poop was regular but it was white. I could not believe my eyes , one day and night on the internet gave me several reasons. The most plausible one was that he was not digesting fat. So what to do. What I found out was that if the stomach acid is low, bile production is off. Bile is needed to break down fat and is actually what gives our output its lovely color. How to mess with stomach acids. Pineapple juice contains enzymes that help digestion, papay fruits, bitter herbs, turmeric and others do the same. When I think about it the herbs used in meat casseroles. very often have this same properties. Probably no coincidence in historical culinary context.
So pineapple juice papay enzymes and herbs. In a short while his output became normal.
We continued the taliban diet until last christmas. And everything started to fall apart. My resolve mostly. I try to keep it up five six days out of seven but frankly ...
What I see is that he can tolerate most foods. He has no excema anymore and it does not turn up even if he eats something that is not on the diet. Bur starchy foods and flour do not do him good in large quantities. Flour makes his ears light up like a christmas tree and his poop gets a really foul odour. And sweet things in overabundance take me occasionally back in time... for a while...
I am of the opinion that nutrition should come from food, not supplements.
I give him fish oil. (Cod liver) Actually this goes for all my kids. And in the mornings I give him egg yolks in his juice. All the b vitamins in one go from a food source.
All my dietary experiments are anecdotal evidence of something that worked somehow. I wonder what was what... What I do know is that he did not yet recieve aba interventions at the beginning of the taliban diet, and when he got that medication. Changes seen over a short period of time were due to something else.
I also can see that he is making greater strides developmentally now in his program than he was then in spite of our escapades.
He is still getting fresh juice, probiotics and egg yolks. I am not comfortable giving that up. I am pretty obsessed with nutrition.
I do believe fat free stuff is unhealthy and bad for the brain. Which is mostly made of fat.
I belive sugar and all that white starchy food is not food.
So I am a bit of a fascist when it comes to food.
We took Sturla to a neurologist a few months a ago to do a brain scan and a more thorough allergy testing. Nothing out of the ordinary,
I hesitatingly told him about out culinary adventures.
He was polite enough to keep his opinions to himself. Then he said: There is a very strong connection between the gut and the brain. We just do not know the exact connections.
Smart man.
Agreeing with me that is...
Most doctors find it quite easy to brush off over anxious over excited and over protective mothers or perhaps just over the edge kind of mothers.
He was smart enough, to know that he does not know it all and he is not raising this child. He is not there to watch every change day by day with a ridiculously large magnifying glass.
Our pediatrician recommended him as a man who read research. He could have recommended him as a man who cares.
We do not know what works in this gut brain immunology and whatever all those big words are and go way over my head and make me so exhausted in trying to comprehend.
I think something changed.
I think his health is better.
I think we still need to tread carefully.
He is still autistic, he is learning to compensate, perhaps he will learn enough to live an independent, self sufficient happy life. Perhaps he will be dropped of the spectrum some day and to the normal spectrum.
Because normal is a spectrum too.
I am allowed to hope for the best and I will.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

How good can we get at diagnosing.

This troubles me to no end.
I remember reading about autism some twenty years ago and it was considered a very rare condition.
So terrible I thought, so sad so utterly hopeless. Little did I know.
Today in Iceland one in every hundred children is diagnosed on the spectrum.
Not very rare and very much a part of every ones reality.
I do believe we are better at diagnosing.
There is something to suggest that there has been a decrease in some other disabilities.
Now those same individuals considered to be on the autism spectrum.
But does it account for this incredible rise in numbers. There seems to be no consensus on this. And I wonder why is there no thorough study on it. I cannot find any.
So please inform me if I am wrong.
When is there enough reason to worry...
Is autism increasing or are the evaluators just so darn good and their equipment just so precise.
How good can we get?
I wonder what is causing it all, is there a real increase or have we just changed the criteria. If so what can we expect.
I dream of a magic bullet.
Eat your fish oil and language will roll in, fast and fluid.
Heal your gut and you will become a social success.
Take your vitamins and you will love change for change itself.

Monday, March 1, 2010

My baby can lie.

Ain´t that swell
Sitting at the table, working. Wanting a break. That mother of his, has a bad tendency of keeping the sessions to long, greed overriding good sense.
"Need to pee"
Getting away with it once, twice...
Mother catches on....
He is lying, that is so great. Manipulating the situation to his own advantage.
Let ethics and morals wait. I am so proud.

Two and a half years ago another little boy stood in front of me then a little over four years old. He wanted more sweets. He looked at me with his huge blue eyes and stated that his father had already given his brothers one sweet each but he had not gotten any as his dad had only had two in his pocket. Such an elaborate scheme, crafty thoughts!
Could I please salvage the situation?
Those big eyes fluttered their dark lashes. Blink, Blink.

I had just received the diagnosis that his little brother was autistic. I then wondered if his brother would ever be able to do a lot of things. Lying was one of them. So I looked at my little son and admired the way his mind worked. Knowing perfectly well he had gotten his sweet and was lying through his teeth, blue eyes and all.

Theory of mind.
Escaping from the working situation with this simple lie is perhaps not very elaborate but I dare say it is definately a start.

Lying has its dark side of course. But the truth is, that to be able to navigate deep dangerous social waters we need to master it.
We lie to protect and to harm and to get our way or just to make things a little easy.
We need to recognise when we are lied to and to know when it is appropriate and when it is not.
When it is right and when it is wrong.
Hence,morals and ethics and other sticky stuff that is part of the human condition.
But all that can wait.