Climbing the walls

When Frances was younger, starting as a toddler, she would climb anything and everything. It was quite impressive even though it was frightening.

When I mentioned this to her wonderful doctor (a developmental paediatrician), a few years later, he asked: “Has she ever fallen?” The answer was that she had not, and still has not, ever fallen.

But I couldn’t leave her alone, even when she was six years old because, though she had never fallen, the possibility was there that she could, in fact, fall one day.

The dark humour of this story is that, whenever she bolted or wandered away from me at the park, I knew to look upwards, not just around, to find her.

She has always been in constant motion–skipping, jumping, running, twirling, spinning–this has never changed, and I honestly don’t foresee this changing.

By age 9, though she would frequently be unaware of potential dangers attending her movement and behaviour, she wasn’t really climbing as often.

The danger has been, and still is, more that she will stand with her feet at the edge of the top of the stairs facing backwards while talking or moving, or she will sit with her back flush with the edge of the high mattress, or even try to do donkey kicks on the sofa facing the ground.

Lately, however, a month-and-change away from her 11th birthday, I’m always finding her standing on high things, balancing while squatting or standing on the edges of furniture, trying to climb stair railings…

So, it’s back, folks! Climbing behaviour is back. We’ve come to accept that HF ASD for our family means that behaviours don’t always disappear forever. Some never disappear at all, such as sitting in dangerous positions, and sitting in the squatting position exclusively, but climbing will come and go. We just go with the flow.

My best guess is that the sensory input that she gets from climbing helps her in some way to cope with what goes on inside her body and mind.

The only difficulty is a practical one: she now requires even more supervision than she did last year.

I don’t mind because, as I’ve mentioned, I think it helps her cope somehow. What I do try to establish is a rule that I must be present when she climbs.

We’re working on that.

Advertisements

Um, no…But yes, absolutely

Frances: Sarcasm — isn’t that just lying? (Nov. 17/17)

People with ASD can experience difficulty with figurative language. What I have discovered is that “not understanding” can, in a sense, mean “just getting to the bottom line” of the matter with Frances.

Ordinarily, she has difficulty interpreting euphemisms, idioms, gestures, etc. Here, her struggle appears to concern purpose or utility: Why would one use sarcasm? Why does one, oftentimes, use sarcasm as humour? In other words, why is it considered to be funny?

It’s really amazing that, even though she struggles with non-literal language, she is very witty and understands figurative language when it is her own, when she, herself, produces it.

For example, when she was newly six years old and was feeling unwell, she once said:

I’m feeling as sick as a tornado can be loud…Is that a lot? (May 28, 2013)

Frances has always kept me on my feet — in more ways than one — and always at least one step away from knowing everything about her.

She’s absolutely fascinating — I am her mother, after all — and her ability to get straight to the heart of any matter is just one more thing that impresses me.

J. Alfred Proof-rock

I’ve mentioned this fact before: when she was two, almost three, Frances would ask me to read to her at bedtime whatever I happened to be reading for myself at that time.

Thinking she might fall asleep faster if I read the Aeneid by Virgil — because I, myself, would — I started the epic poem. To my utter surprise, she enjoyed it. My plan really wasn’t working.

So, then, I thought about T.S. Eliot and started reading The Waste Land. I moved on from there to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. In doing so, I began a nightly routine that lasted for several years.

It has been a long time since I last read Prufrock to her, but she clearly still remembers it as, the other day, she quipped, “Where’s the proof-rock? Get it, Mum?” She giggled and giggled.

She has a wonderful sense of humour that, I think, won’t be appreciated by everyone. I doubt that the children in her class have heard of T.S. Eliot yet.

Over the edge

Frances has a very dry sense of humour that appears at really funny times.

For example, every weekend, she and I have a sleepover: we usually camp out in a fort in the living room, watch a movie and eat popcorn.

Recently, my bed was the site of the sleepover, and I found myself often teetering on the edge about to fall off because she kept moving closer and pushing me. I even fell over once.

When I mentioned this to Frances, she simply said, “Well, they say if you love something, you should let it go.”

So, she was letting me go over the edge?

😂 

Musca domestica


Someone in the Pink Cup Family recently left the back door open despite my reminders that flies would get into our home. Well, flies got into our home for a week or so, which caused Frances to remark:

“It’s not every day you see a housefly in its natural habitat — a house! Hahaha!”

I’ve read that people with Aspergers/high functioning autism spectrum disorder lack a sense of humour — I must beg to differ.  

Frances has a great sense of humour: It just may not involve subjects to which her peers can easily relate since it usually reflects her other intense interest: documentaries (nature, architecture, and restricted growth syndromes — I’ll have to discuss that one later).


Spare time

I came across this little gem in Frances’s school journal:


“Thurs. Oct. 8, 2015.

When I am bored, I annoy my sister. I do: ‘Knock, knock. Do you want to build a snowman?’ It really annoys my sister.”

Yes, she knocks on Pink Cup Sister’s bedroom door and sings the Do You Want to Build A Snowman? song from the movie Frozen just as the character, Anna, does. 

She does it over and over again, and we have to remind her of the “it was funny the first time” rule.

Thankfully, she hasn’t done it in quite some time.

(Nota bene: There was remarkable improvement in her spelling from October to June.)

Priorities

Frances made a cute list of things she wanted to do before Christmas during Christmas vacation — number five was my favourite: Capture an elf. She said she might believe in Santa if she could capture an elf.

  

The Christmas carol

It takes on new meaning in our home.

For example, while listening to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, at the “as they shouted out with glee” part, Frances asked:

“Is ‘glee’ a company that sells telephones?”

While listening to We Wish You A Merry Christmas, at the “we won’t go until we get some” part, Frances said:

“That really gets me. After about ten minutes, would you call the police?”

  
Merry Christmas!