"One more chapter"

 

 

There sits the stack of books we're currently reading.  Not one.  Not two.  Not three.  Oh no.  We read a chapter or more out of four to six different books per day.

 

Yes, I read to him in utero.  Yes, I began reading to him the moment he arrived.  But never in my wildest imagination did I think he'd have such a passion for books.

 

No one would believe us when we'd mention our baby would sit, contentedly on our lap while we'd read to him for an hour to an hour and a half nightly.  I'd usually begin.  Then either my husband or my mother would take over.  And I'd finish the reading off.   By age 10 months he'd begun asking for more. 

 

"Another please mama", he'd request.   

 

He always asks for more.  He's always disappointed we get tired.  He's not tired.  His brain is hungry for more. 

 

We feed it. 

 

"One more chapter?...Maybe just a page or two more?" 

 

Henry's been asking for more chapters since age 2, when he asked us kindly to "stop reading baby books" to him.  We still read picture books.  But only if chapter books are sprinkled in the mix of reading time.

 

Reading aloud is important for any child.  Reading aloud for our aspie son, is essential.  His reading comprehension is far above his ability level. 

 

When we read, he's able to lose himself in the story.  He takes it all in.  He memorizes chapters.  Authors.  Characters.  Each and every detail is captured.

 

And then he draws.

 

 

For Hours. 

 

 

Even obscure characters he hasn't seen before come out on the paper.

 

 

 

It all began one day out at a local sandwich shop.  My husband and I sat across from one another at a small two-seater table.  An 18 month old Henry sat to our side.  The restaurant was extremely crowded that particular late afternoon. 

 

When our young waitress seated us she brought with her paper and a couple of large crayons.  My husband and I kind of shrugged and chuckled.  Henry had shown zero interest in crayons at home.  He'd already developed a love of black pens. 

 

While Michael (my husband) and I sat there chatting, we noticed the quiet.  Not from the other patrons.  Mind you it's noisy in this particular joint we go to, even when they aren't busy.  The quiet came from our son.

 

We looked over.  He was busy adding lines under a large yellow circle. 

 

Daddy said, "What a nice drawing Henry!"

 

"What are you drawing Henry?" I inquired.

 

"Scaycrow" he stated it quite clearly, without looking up, without shifting his focus from the paper.

 

At the time Henry was *obsessed* with "Scaycrows" (scarecrows).  He saw scarecrows on every drive we took in the car.  Even mini scarecrows caught his eye. 

 

We read nothing else but scarecrow books.  At the time, I could recite his favorite scarecrow book. 

 

We've gone from crosses, to scarecrows, Oz, Alice, Narnia, dolls, snails, lifecycles....

 

The interests hit strong. 

 

We feed them.

 

 

 

 

Embracing the Differences: A How-To-Guide to Self Love from a Young Aspie

When we had Henry enrolled in weekly "social group" therapy sessions, one of his little friends became sad over being told she was "different" due to her Asperger's diagnosis.

At home we discussed this friend, as her parents were considering pulling her from therapy due to her sadness and disappointment.  As we explained this to Henry, I asked him what he would tell someone about his Asperger's.  "What if someone said they felt sorry for you because you have a differently wired brain?What if they made you feel your brain type was wrong?  What would you say to that person? If you could talk directly to your friend right now what would you say about Asperger's and your life?"

He thought about it for a minute, then said

"Practically I think Asperger's Syndrome is pretty awesome to have.  You can do a bunch of things 'normal' people can’t do. Everyone is different: Different, weird, not-the-same is AWESOME!” ~Henry (age 6)

Instantly I went to type up his quote.  We then discussed his future as an author and a motivator for others with neurological differences. To me it was pretty obvious Henry is a rock star when it comes to describing how to embrace who he is and how he works.

You Might Be An Unofficially Diagnosed Dyslexic If...

1)   You don’t readily know Left from Right.  Instead you say “That way”.

2)   You use brain game style reminders for which way letters go.  (Example:  Since the age of 5 I’ve always remembered Suzy’s Zoo or Suz for the writing direction of S and Z)   

3)   Tying anything from the opposite direction takes 100% of your focus and might take multiple tries.

4)   Doing anything from the opposite (mirror image) direction you learned to do anything, such as painting someone else’s fingernails, is difficult for your brain to navigate.

5)   Your desk is messy, but you personally know where each item you need is.

6)   You’re better at showing someone how to do something versus telling them or describing to them how to do it.

7)   Same as 6, but in the case of you learning something new you’d prefer to watch someone first then copy it.  (It’s how I learned to “do” the computer and use the Internet from my computer geek husband.  I’d just watch. He’d want to tell me, which caused confusion.)

8)   When reading aloud you make bizarre substitutions for words.  Recently while reading an Oz book to my son I repeatedly used the word “shoulder” for “soldier” until I took a moment to re-route my brain.

9)   Hunt & Peck is the only way you can type, no matter how much Mavis Beacon tries to help you otherwise.

10) Auto-correct is your BFF, except when it has no suggestions for your very wrongly typed word.

So here's the deal...My husband & I joke each other about our various neurological differences.  Always have.  Always will.

For years when faced with his questions on which direction I wish to travel, whether in the car or on a walk my answer has always been the same, "That way.",  as I point with my finger in the direction to "go".

He’d then comment (especially in the car), that I must be “mildly dyslexic”, as of course this pointing always turned into an argument about how he can’t look at my hand when driving.  “Why can’t you just say LEFT or RIGHT?” he’d insist.  As if I knew what the heck direction I was pointing in.  Ironically, I can tell the actual compass direction, thanks to the amazing ability to be able to picture where Lake Michigan is in relation to where I currently am.  ;) I just can’t make the distinction for the more commonplace of direction telling.

It wasn't until, while homeschooling our son, that I actually understood dyslexia wasn't just about mixing up letters or numbers, but an actual difference in how one remembers information. 

Our son’s utter frustration with trying to remember which way a 2 and a 5 “go” brought back a flood of my school day memories.

Turning to the boy sitting behind me in second grade, 

“Bobby, how do you spell the word any?  Help.  I can’t remember how!” 

Bobby looked at me like feathers were shooting out of my ears, before sighing and muttering “A-N-Y” to me.  I was grateful he assisted.  Our teacher was known as being a dictionary stickler.  You know the type.  “Look it up in the dictionary,” was her answer  to any student asking how to spell anything.  Even now I get a squimbly (yes that’s my own word) tummy just thinking about having to go up to her desk to ask her anything. How can you look up a word if you have zero idea what letter it begins with?  How would I, an at the time seven year old child, known to begin with the letter "a" when the word begins with the NNNNnnnnnnnn sound?!  It still makes me want to scream in frustration.  

I remembered being taken to the back of the Kindergarten room for extra time with early development specialists.  I knew I didn't want to be different in school, as “different” got you belittled.  I did everything I could to figure out the things they were asking me to do.   Instead, I struggled through and plodded along all through my school career.  And, no, I do not have a diploma.

Fast-forward to my son, now age 8, known aspie (person with Asperger’s Syndrome).  Though his neurological wiring as an autistic allows him to script, and remember amazing details, multiplication threw him for a loop, writing numbers caused tears, memorizing his address still hasn't happened and phone numbers….forget about it.  He can’t fully use a remote control yet. 

What I've learned from the self- quiz I took (which if accurate states I am a moderate to severe dyslexic):

·        Dyslexia is genetic

·        It’s often discovered at age 8, around the time multiplication tables are being readily learned by peers.

·        About 1 in 5 people have dyslexia

·        Depending on the stats you read either “Approximately 50% of people with dyslexia drop-out of school.” Or the “Dyslexia drop out of high school at a rate that is approximately double that of those without dyslexia.”

Currently (Thanks to the advice of a trusted homeschooling friend/mentor) I’m reading and working through the book, “The Gift of Dyslexia” by Ronald D. Davis.

For now, I keep our son's homeschool day succinct.  Math writing is kept to a minimum for him.  He’s able to get support on where to begin problems and how to regroup (carry) his numbers, as needed.  We don’t care how well he spells at age 8 ;)  He can ask us how a word is spelled with no belittling or nitpicking him into dictionary usage.