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What Little Boys Are Made Of

7/12/2013

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"Frogs and snails and puppy dog tails" that's what little boys are made of, or so the nursery rhyme goes, but what if your little boy thinks frogs are too hoppy, snails are too slimey and puppy dog tails feel like leather whips slashing against his leg? Is there any kind of ingredient substitution to make a little boy or do you have to follow the recipe to a tee? Ryan's "ingredients" have always varied a bit from the standard little boy recipe, and it took me many attempts to realize that when his ingredients are mixed properly, kneaded gently and left to cool completely, the final product is more satisfying than all the frogs and snails combined. And even when a surprising, unpredictable puppy dog tail falls into the mix, as long as the sous chef is available to build a wooden barrier to keep the hyper, unpredictable puppy at arms length, then a giggling little boy still emerges from the near perfect recipe.

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Meet Rook, aka, Rookie...the puppy dog tail just added to Ryan's very strict, very routine, very predictable ingredient list. Rook is a sweet, lovable yellow lab puppy who likes to nip with his piranha teeth, scratch with his switchblade knife claws and make himself known with his ear splitting, glass shattering howl. Needless to say, Ryan is less than pleased. In fact, when we voted "yea" or "nay" for a new dog, Ryan's vote was the only nay heard on the floor. Ryan told us under no uncertain terms would he be helping with "the stupid dog" since he "didn't want him anyway". Ryan's feelings and his valid concerns were considered, but this was one time his vote was vetoed. Democracy sucks.

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When you have a child with an Autism Spectrum Diagnosis whose main ingredients vary greatly from the rest of the family members' mix, consolations, accommodations, substitutions, and sacrifices are made, sometimes to the detriment of the siblings. It took a trip to Disney World for Kyle and Emma to see their first firework show. Ryan was utterly terrified of fireworks for years, so scared in fact that he would count down the days, then the hours and finally the minutes until the 4th of July would come to a glorious end. He was however, indignant if so much as a sparkler was lit on any day other than the 4th of July. The Disney fireworks was another time we pushed Ryan outside of his comfort zone. With his hands over his ears and standing in an area he deemed a safe distance away (it happened to be on a bridge with water flowing underneath it...I don't think that was a coincidence) to ensure none of us would catch on fire, Ryan sat back and enjoyed the fireworks. Ok, maybe enjoy is too strong of a word, but over the years, Ryan has learned to tolerate fireworks and he no longer needs to hide in the bathroom on the 4th of July.

As I have said before, Ryan likes his routine, so spontaneous family picnics, hikes, vacations, etc aren't exactly a piece of cake for him or for many kids on the spectrum. There are just way too many unpredictable, uncontrollable variables such as bugs, thunderstorms, exercise and the possibility that the "right" kind of food will not be available. Holiday parties, vacations, and various social events need at the very least, ample warning and at the most, careful planning and consideration, especially if said event varies from the previous year. Our annual beach trip with friends did not happen this summer for various reasons, so we as a family discussed possibly taking a trip to Niagara Falls and the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. Although we were all disappointed about no beach trip this summer, everyone except Ryan thought this DIFFERENT trip would be kind of cool. Ryan adamantly refused and informed us that he does not go north on summer vacations. Excuse me, what? Yep, vacations for our family are southbound trips only. I have no idea why. I wonder if Ryan was made aware that there are very few "killer bugs" found at the North Pole if he would change his mind? Probably not, since that creepy stranger who Ryan still hides from named Santa Claus still lives there. No bugs or Santa and his elves....hmmmm....that would be an interesting choice.

As parents there are times we all cave, throw our hands up in the air and just give in to whatever the demand at the moment is. There are times we say "yes" to ice cream before lunch, or "go ahead" to the toy that will wind up in next year's yard sale or "it's fine" through clenched teeth at the hideous outfit chosen for the school picture. Even though we know we shouldn't, we do, because as all the mothers and fathers who have come before us have told us, "pick your battles". That's a great motto to live by as it helps reduce your guilt when your child has ice cream sprinkles hanging from their lips before 10 AM, but when skirmishes erupt regularly throughout the day and they effect all the members of your troops, sometimes it's difficult to decide when to retreat and when to wage a full on war. Don't get me wrong, Ryan is not the captain of this army, (ok, AWEnestly, sometimes he is) and Dan and I have pushed Ryan outside his comfort zone many, many times because we know, that like it or not, the world is not going to adapt to Ryan's needs and desires, Ryan has to adapt to the world. And this past week, that world has expanded to include a puppy because regardless of the battlefield damage, Ryan can't always be victorious.
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This is not our first pet experience, we had a Siberian Husky named Niyka for 15 years, 10 of which Ryan was present for. Needless to say, a 15 year old dog behaves much differently than a 9 week old puppy. When Ryan was little, we have a video of him taking pieces of Niyka's food and running with it and giggling while Niyka chased gently after him, but for most of Niyka's life, Ryan ignored her. So, you can imagine my surprise when Dan and I broke the sad news to Ryan that Niyka's time with us had ended and he responded with gut wrenching sobs while crawling onto my lap protesting, "but I didn't even get to tell her that I loved her". We assured Ryan that Niyka knew and I believe in some way she did. At least Ryan didn't scream at Niyka when her 97 human year old bladder failed her ALL THE TIME. Poor Niyka, Ryan may have left her alone most of the time, but when you are 97, that may be just want you want.

Maybe it's Ryan's lack of "puppy dog tail" ingredient that made him somewhat indifferent to Niyka or maybe it was the fact that she was old for so long, she just bored him, but unlike many kids on the spectrum, dogs don't impress Ryan. For whatever reason, many kids with an Autism Spectrum Diagnosis actually love animals, sometimes preferring these fuzzy friends to people. Several studies have shown that when autistic children are interacting or in the presence of animals, these kids smile more, talk more and become more socially engaged. This calming influence has lead to pet therapy for children and adults with ASD. In addition to pet therapy, service dogs are often used for children with autism who tend to wander. The dogs are trained to track the child if he wanders away and also to nudge the child when the child begins to wander thus avoiding a full out, terrifying search for these lost kids who often find themselves in danger. I met a mother once whose son had autism and she told me her son's service dog was trained to bump her son when his stimming (self-stimulation) became so obsessive that he could actually injure himself. The dog helped calm her son down to the point that he no longer needed to "stim".

There is no real definitive answer to why so many children and adults with autism have this supposed animal connection, but Temple Grandin, the well known animal scientist, author and professor living with autism believes autistic people can often think the way animals think. In fact, in Grandin's book, "Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior" she sees "autism as a kind of way station on the road from animals to humans---putting autistic people in the perfect position to translate "animal talk". Although Temple Grandin may have changed the cattle industry with her ability to relate and understand cattle, I don't believe Ryan is the next Dr. Doolittle. However, I do believe that Ryan appreciates and loves that neither one of our dogs ever asked him to discuss his day and he fully appreciates that dogs don't care one way or another whether he brushes his teeth or combs his hair.

Although a near death wasp experience at the first puppy shopping stop we made may have prevented Ryan from utilizing any Dr. Doolittle expertise he had up his sleeve, he did at least pet two of the puppies we carried to the van where he sat waiting with the windows up to prevent any further wasp fly by's. Ryan's choice of Rook was weighted higher than anyone else's which gave Ryan some sense of control of a decision he felt was totally unfair. And although Ryan didn't want "any stupid dog" in the first place, he watched and giggled at the puppy's antics from a safe distance in the van most of the way home.

Upon returning home, Ryan begged to go with me to the pet store to pick up all the expensive, necessary items a new puppy requires. I figured he had candy in mind because yes, even in the check out line at the pet store, there is enticing candy right at kid level. Ryan helped shop for a few things then asked if he could go see the other "animals". When I found Ryan ten minutes later he was entranced by of all things, the mice. With intermittent times of flat out belly laughing to his big trying not to smile autismy grin when another man equally interested in the mice approached, to his concern that the one mouse wasn't moving, my Dr. Doolittle was more impressed with some little vermin than cute, snuggly puppies. Of course it helped that the mice were safely encased in 2 inch think glass. I asked Ryan why he liked the mice so much and he said they were "funny" and "interesting". When I told him with all his math and sciencey smartness maybe one day he could become a scientist working with mice conducting experiments on how animals think and why they behave the way they do. Ryan was thrilled such a job existed. My beautiful, intelligent son may prefer mice to people one day, and if you take just 10 minutes to watch the news, read the paper, or watch some ridiculous reality television show, you might just discover that Ryan, and kids like him, are smarter than any of us.
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Although it took exactly 30 minutes of Rook's arrival for Ryan to ask, "Does anyone else think this was a bad decision?", Ryan has already "gotten use to Rookie" and he loves playing with Rookie on the safe side of the wall. I hope as Rook gets bigger and calmer, Ryan and he will become the best of friends because even though Ryan's ingredient list is different than many little boys, he still wants to be loved, understood and respected even if there has never been a frog in his pocket or dirt on his knees. There is nothing like loyal, unconditional, unwavering love that curls up next to you after a day of drafting a confusing fictional writing piece, tolerating the stupid, testosterone filled bullies on the bus and suffering through a torturous 42 minutes of smelly, sticky art class. All the ugliness of the day seems to dissolve into that soft, snuggly fur and the stench of narrow mindedness and prejudice is replaced with the sweet, warm, stinky dog breath panting up at you. Regardless of our ingredient list, whether we are made of sugar and spice and everything nice or frogs, snails and puppy dog tails, we all need to add heaping cups of love, handfuls of understanding, abundant sprinkles of laughter, a touch of flexibility and unlimited forgiveness in order to turn out "just right". Otherwise, we may just end up on the other side of the pet store glass while the genetically altered "interesting" and "funny"  laboratory mice take over the world. I'm pretty sure Ryan would be spared.

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The "other side of the wall" where as you can see, no one is safe.
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