notes from an Open Sensory Gym afternoon…
The boy sat in the giant red swing. It was in the center of the room, swaying back and forth on the rope attached to the high ceiling. His mother (grandmother? caregiver?) pushed him back and forth.
“This is a leap year,” he said. “There are 366 days in this year. Every four years is a leap year. Do you know what this year is? It’s a leap year. How many Wednesdays are in this month? Did you know that this is a leap year? There are 29 days in February this year. It’s a leap year.”
The boy jumped out of the swing and went up to each adult in the room.
“This is a leap year,” he said. “There are 366 days in this year. Every four years is a leap year. Do you know what this year is? It’s a leap year. How many Wednesdays are in this month? Did you know that this is a leap year? There are 29 days in February this year. It’s a leap year.”
An hour passed. He went from swing to trampoline to scooter board to crash pad.
“This is a leap year,” he said. “There are 366 days in this year. Every four years is a leap year. Do you know what this year is? It’s a leap year. How many Wednesdays are in this month? Did you know that this is a leap year? There are 29 days in February this year. It’s a leap year.”
My friend and I answered him each time. Of course we did.
His mother (grandmother? caregiver?) started to yell at him. “STOP Adam STOP!” she yelled from across the room. She looked embarrassed. Or weary. Or both.
It made me sad. If there was any place that this would be fine – and understood – it would be in this gym. He wasn’t bothering anyone. Why tell him to stop?
Was it out of habit? Or was she truly worried about what we thought?
I wanted to tell her it was okay. That he could just “be” here. But I didn’t. I don’t know why.
**********
After checking out most of the equipment in the gym, Howie gravitated towards a large purple therapy swing that was full of balls. He climbed right in, zipped himself up and asked me to swing him around. “Faster! Faster!” he yelled to me. In a place like this, I could give in to his need to spin, spin, spin.
A little boy came over and helped me push Howie around. Howie squealed with delight. The boy introduced himself as Zachary and they ran off to play together. Really play. They climbed up on the crash pad and pretended they were jumping out of airplanes. They sat together in the giant tires and pretended they were in spaceships. As they ran from thing to thing I struck up a conversation with his dad.
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Five and a half.” he replied
“Oh, Howie is too. Well, he’ll be six in March.”
The dad paused for a moment, looking intently at Howie. “He’s not autistic, is he?”
I was totally taken aback. Isn’t that why we’re all here? “Yes, yes he is.” I say.
“Oh, wow. But…he talks so well! I assumed he was here with a sibling, like Zachary is here with his younger brothers. His twin brothers are four. They aren’t talking…yet.” His voice trailed off.
I told him Howie had a diagnosis of PDD-NOS. He looked at me like I had three heads. “It’s part of the autism spectrum.” I replied.
It struck me that even within our own community not everyone understands that it’s a spectrum.
We talked some more about how tough it is for Zachary to be at home with his brothers. They come to the sensory gym so that all three boys have a place that’s safe for them to play together.
“It’s so hard for him,” the dad said. “I guess he’ll grow up faster and learn more about life than other kids.”
We watched as the boys ran off together again laughing.
I had assumed that Zachary was on the spectrum. His dad had assumed the opposite about Howie.
I wanted to connect with this family of three boys. I wanted help spread awareness of a different kind. But I didn’t. I don’t know why.
**********
Someday, I will buy a “squeeze machine”. So I can see this happy face all. the. time.
**********
I am very grateful to our local Autism Alliance center that opens its hearts and pockets to provide these sensory gyms during the winter months. This is how we’ve spent our last two Sundays. The equipment is familiar to my son from school. But most importantly, he is free to choose what he wants to do and what he needs to do in that moment. And both weekends, he has made new friends.
Can I say that again? My five-year-old kid with deficits in social skills and pragmatic language made new friends. You don’t have to have your degree in special education to understand why.
He’s comfortable. He’s happy. He’s safe. He’s around people who are letting him be.
He’s free to be himself.
If only we adults could learn from that.
“Every boy in this land grows to be his own man
In this land, every girl grows to be her own woman
Take my hand, come with me where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we’ll run
To a land where the river runs free
To a land through the green country
To a land to a shining sea
To a land where the horses run free
To a land where the children are free
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be
And you and me are free to be you and me” – Free To Be You And Me soundtrack
February 19, 2012 at 10:03 pm
This place sounds amazing! I wish I could start something like that here, but right now I don’t see how I could do it. Still, our little community is bonding over LEGO Club and a Moms’ Meetup that my friend started. And another friend has gotten the Y in a town 20 miles away to host Autswim nights, and those are amazing! The kids can just be themselves. And they smile the whole night long.
I love your posts, Alysia!
February 19, 2012 at 10:10 pm
I think what you’re doing is perfect. You’re giving your kids the same thing that this gym does – a place for them to feel like it’s okay to be them. What else could you ask for?
February 19, 2012 at 10:07 pm
Sometimes it’s okay to simply take care of your own kids. At least that’s why I think your Super Hero Mom cape was only being applied to your own munchkins and not connecting with other families while spreading autism awareness. Or maybe that’s what I’m doing and praying it’s okay:)
February 19, 2012 at 10:10 pm
makes perfect sense to me
thank you.
February 19, 2012 at 10:46 pm
Oh, how I would love the squeeze machine for another 5-almost-6 y.o. boy! I love that he is making friends…that is blissful. I hope someday Tate can do that….
February 20, 2012 at 2:59 pm
He will
and that squeeze machine was awesome.
February 19, 2012 at 10:49 pm
This sounds like a fantastic place. Can I just tell you how much I appreciate the picture of the squeeze machine? They have one in the motor room at my son’s preschool, but I couldn’t for the life of me picture how it would work. You made my day.
February 20, 2012 at 3:00 pm
Yay! So happy to help. I couldn’t figure out how it worked either. My kid showed me, with some help of the staff
February 20, 2012 at 1:18 am
I am going to find out if we have a place similar to this near us. And if we don’t I am going to find a way to make it happen. This is seriously awesome. As someone who still likes trampolines, I get the squeeze machine thing. I would have loved that as a kid.
I love that friend-making is happening for your gorgeous boy, too.
I know what you mean about wanting to share what you know with other parents. I sometimes do, but often I think we all have so much going on, it is easier to let things be.
February 20, 2012 at 3:01 pm
So the first place we went to was a private OT facility that donated the space to our autism alliance center, and we paid a small fee to get in. Maybe something like that could work?
Or I am playing the lottery now so when I make millions I will open a franchise of these places all over the world.
February 20, 2012 at 7:07 am
you might not have reached out at that moment to those two families. but read your comments my friend, you help others all the time ! I agree sometime it is better to have a howie moment not a teaching moment. xoxo
February 20, 2012 at 3:02 pm
Yup. And that we did
February 20, 2012 at 7:19 am
That’s awesome you have a place like that. We have an indoor bounce house place that has a really discounted special needs night the last Monday each month, but last time we were there, our 5yo had a contact allergic reaction to something on their bouncy slides, so I’m really leery of going back. It makes me sad because it was a great winter option for us.
February 20, 2012 at 3:03 pm
I can see that being a problem. This place had no food allowed inside, but they didn’t require hand washing before entering. That does make it harder for sure. I’m sorry
February 20, 2012 at 8:24 am
Alysia, a link to this place or possibly more info for folks who would be interested?
And it’s so hard to let our kids go. We want to keep a bubble around them and keep them safe from so many things, sometimes even themselves. You’re doing the right thing, you’re trying different methods…you’re ok.
February 20, 2012 at 8:30 am
Sure! Great idea. The one we went to was through here: http://www.autismalliance.org/
The one we attended last week was at a different location. The autism alliance made an arrangement with a local private OT facility to open their doors for a few Sundays in the winter. For those not local, I would suggest calling your local autism resource center and ask if they have events like this. And if not…why not?
February 20, 2012 at 8:49 am
Reading this brought tears to my eyes – as most of your posts do. I am smiling from ear to ear looking at Howie’s face.
February 20, 2012 at 3:04 pm
Yup, he was a happy guy.
February 20, 2012 at 10:37 am
I love this. It’s so awesome to have a place to go when it’s cold or rainy. And it sounds like Howie really has a place to fit in as well. Perfect.
February 20, 2012 at 3:04 pm
And he was tired! That never happens.
February 20, 2012 at 12:27 pm
Sometimes, the connections aren’t always as obvious or always immediately as deep as we think they should be. But have no doubt, my friend, you connected with each family. You connected with the children and you connected through your own comfort level in letting Howie simply “be” exactly whatever and however he needed to be in the moment.
The smallest ripple in a pond is still traveling outward even when we can no longer see it.
February 20, 2012 at 3:04 pm
Love you. Thank you <3
February 20, 2012 at 1:44 pm
I love this. Free to be you and me. That’s a great thing to teach those on the spectrum, typically developing siblings and adults alike.
February 20, 2012 at 3:05 pm
Thank you
February 20, 2012 at 2:59 pm
I love that you have a place where they can romp and be themselves. It’s hard when you see someone correct their kid for just being themselves. I never quite know what to do or say for fear of crossing that invisible line. Sigh.
Lovely lyrics, so fitting.
February 20, 2012 at 3:06 pm
I think that’s it…that invisible line. Had I known her, or seen her before, maybe I would have said something. But I didn’t know. That’s what made us stop and stay quiet, even though it was making us sad.
February 20, 2012 at 10:00 pm
I love the idea of a sensory gym. I wish we had one around here. I have a son that would go around telling everyone everything he has learned.We are really trying to teach our son NOT to say everything on his mind, NOT to dominate conversations, and NOT to repeat things over and over again. We are also working on the tone and energy in his voice. I was not there, so I have no idea what the scene really was, but coming from a mama of 5 kids – one who talks just about non stop, I can understand why the mama would say stop. It is fine when he is out talking to other people, but when he is talking for nearly 12 hours + out of everyday, sometimes we just need a break.
I wish we had a gym like this close by. It sounds like you had fun.
Blessings
Honey
February 20, 2012 at 10:13 pm
Thank you for the comment and the insight. My friend and I were guessing that was it – that the mom or whomever it was with him was really really done with the conversation and had probably been working with him on conversation, language, etc,, like so many of us do. I’m sure she had been answering him nonstop since he woke up and knew it would continue long after we were gone. I think you hit the nail on the head with it all.
Thank you so much.
February 21, 2012 at 7:20 pm
We desperately need a squeeze machine here too. Noah would be in hog heaven with something like that. Same with a swing!
February 21, 2012 at 8:53 pm
Yup. Would be the perfect addition to our house. Both. Now, let’s win that lottery.
February 28, 2012 at 10:49 am
I juat have to say that I love your posts. They always hit so close to home with me. Our sons are very close in age so maybe that is why I can relate so well to what you are going through with yours. I am so happy that someone recommended your blog to me. Thank you so much for sharing all that you do. On many ocasions your posts have lifted my spirits. Thank you
September 24, 2012 at 6:04 am
[...] wrote about our experience there in my blog. I talked about how welcoming it was. How one child kept telling everyone it was a leap year [...]