Living with Elijah is like a day at the dance studio. Two steps forward, one step back. As long as the movement is always forward we can do the shuffle, but while it can be exhausting, it is never dull.
On Super Bowl Sunday, a friend of Sarah's came by with her two children. Elijah eagerly awaited their arrival (this was the same family who visited us for fun in the snow -- see the previous blog), and he happily played with the boy, Quinn, for quite a while (step forward). When Quinn and Elijah started to play a video game that Elijah hadn't played before, Elijah got frustrated and announced that he was going to his room (a step forward and also a step back -- the retreat to the room was bad, but the fact that he felt embarrassed by his inability to play the game was an emotion we had never seen and was actually a good sign). A few moments later, Elijah emerged from his room and continued to play until our visitors went home.
That same week, a parent-teacher conference yielded both good and not so good results. Again, all the people working with Elijah at school told us how much they loved him and what a incredible little guy he is. (I'm not naive enough to think that ALL the parents aren't told that, but with his joyful personality and his love for school, I think there is a lot of truth in their feelings.) In terms of his work and where he stands with his peers, Elijah appears to be all over the place. Sometimes his assignments and journal entries are correct and proper, while other times what was asked of him and how he responded have absolutely nothing in common. Yet, unlike many autistic children, he constantly seeks to interact with peers and teachers (on his terms, of course), so it appears that his socialization skills are at least moving in the right direction. Also, his memory for detail is another source of wonder, as his teacher and specialists marveled at his abilities to remember every announcement, incident and object placement in the classroom. The cha cha continues!
Last week at a classmate's birthday party, Elijah happily greeted and interacted with classmates and climbed the rock wall at the facility. Since we have never seen him even attempt do this at our fitness center, both Sarah and I were very happy and looking forward to the fact that he would have the opportunity to show off that skill the next night as we would be taking advantage of our club's "Parents Night Out" to see a movie while leaving Elijah at the club to play, swim and climb. After dinner and the show, we returned to pick up Elijah and were told that the swim time had ended a little sooner than expected because someone had decided to use the pool as a toilet -- and our little guy had happily volunteered that he had been the culprit.
Needless to say, the ride back home was a bit tense until Elijah realized what he had done was wrong and wasn't something to laugh about. But then, the next day, after we had gotten a written apology from Elijah for the club, the story changed. Elijah told us it wasn't him, that he had just said that because .... well, just because.
You may think he was just trying to shift the blame, but a similar incident occurred a few weeks back. An employee from the club's child center came to get me from the workout floor because Elijah had insisted that he had soiled his pants. When I got there and checked him out, it was obvious that wasn't the case. When I asked him why he had said that .... well, I still haven't gotten an answer. My guess is that he wanted more attention from the girls working there and knew this was a way to get it.
It's been years since he's had a verified "accident," and he always announces to everyone and anyone that he needs to use the restroom, so I really don't think he was the culprit. A step back, at least in terms of his ability to communicate accurately.
A more positive moment occurred just last week. Elijah has been working with a graduate student at the University of Kansas as she, for her advanced degree, is teaching him math as part of a research project into how best to teach children with autism. (In a prelude to this, the teacher, "Miss Nikki," taught Elijah about vegetables, so he now can point out artichokes at the grocery store with great excitement.) The sessions were held here at the house, and Elijah always looked forward to Nikki's visits, asking, "Is Miss Nikki coming today?" and always smiling broadly when the answer was yes.
Then we found out that the music therapist who runs Elijah's summer camp had an opening for piano lessons -- on one of the days each week that Miss Nikki visited. We've been trying to get him into piano lessons for a long time, and we couldn't pass up the opportunity. This led to a farewell to Miss Nikki, and it was sad to say goodbye. Piano lessons, step forward .... losing Miss Nikki, a step back.
Then the challenge became finding a piano or keyboard that the little guy could practice on.
The music therapist advised against using the small electric keyboard we have, because it doesn't have "weighted" keys -- no matter how hard or soft you hit the keys, the tone is the same. For someone on the spectrum (and maybe for everyone) the need to hear the difference in sound by the force of the key being struck is very important.
Incredibly, Sarah found someone willing to give us a piano, which was moved to our house today. And we received an e-mail from Miss Nikki telling us that after speaking with her advisers, she had received approval to continue working with Elijah on a different schedule, so piano lessons could be accommodated. At the first lesson after Miss Nikki returned, Elijah got, for the first time, 100 percent correct on the teaching portion of the session. BIG steps forward!
Another first came last week, as Elijah put on roller skates for the first time at an after-school skating party -- an event that in the past might have caused some anxiety for the little guy. But as I have mentioned earlier, his class seems like a pretty special group and once he saw his classmate Sofia, all was well. (Although Sarah realized that ice-skating expertise does not transfer into roller-skating skills, even if you were a great roller-skater in your youth. Her time on the rink was very limited.)
