Something to consider…

Frances has officially finished Grade 5. Her report card was excellent, and her teacher described her as “witty and sassy and delightful.”

Frances’s teacher and I actually discussed my child’s humour which she described as dry beyond her years. It often does catch me (and her teacher) off guard.

Take, for instance, the other evening. Frances and I were watching one of our favourite documentaries about a specific tornado — which she takes very seriously — when, during the segment of interviews with people who experienced the destructive event, her brows furrowed and she asked:

“Why do they keep putting ‘Survivor’ under their names? It’s not as if they could have used dead people…”

I’m so glad I wasn’t eating at that moment because I would have choked!

Anyway, she truly meant no disrespect — it was merely that the editing of the video had struck her as illogical and, therefore, funny.

And, well, I am still laughing…πŸ˜‚

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Growing up

I haven’t been posting much recently because I’ve been so busy attending to Pink Cup Sister’s needs, but also because it’s difficult to write about some things.

For example, Frances is acutely aware that her school mates are “growing up” and she thinks that she may be just as young socially as she was when she first started the school back in 2012 at age 5.

This isn’t accurate, but that’s how she feels. She actually has grown unbelievably, in leaps and bounds, from the little girl who never acknowledged people speaking to her and who never looked at anyone, into a young lady who is passionate about all things equestrian and very comfortable with the people whom she knows.

She is definitely older intellectually than her 11 years by quite a few years, and, yes, a little younger socially: she still wants to collect and to play (yay!) with horse dolls, while her school friends move into the more frequently seen middle-school behaviour of standing around while chatting on the school ground during recesses.

So, she’s gone from the little girl who didn’t want to/know how to play with other children to an older child who wants to play and usually has no opportunity to do so.

Recently, while at a horse show, we were surrounded by the people we know–her coach, the stable owner, other riders and parents–from the stable. Frances, though hoping for someone to play with, announced, “I don’t understand non-horse people,” and everyone said that he/she understood this very well. She then said, “I’m a ‘me’ person, not a ‘we’ person.”

But nobody agreed with her. I put my arms around her (because she sometimes allows me to do so), and I said, “I don’t know about that. These are your friends; these are your people.”

Maybe they don’t play anymore, but they all love horses and “the horse life”, too. We all share an understanding of what it’s like to muck around in dirt; we all know the physical labour involved in loving horses (some of us more than others). At that moment, the feeling of camaraderie was palpable in the spectator stands. I think she noticed as everyone was smiling.

As we fell asleep during our weekly sleepover, I confided: “Mummies and Daddies get a little sad when their children stop playing with toys. I hope you’ll play with toys for as long as you want to even if you only have yourself to play with.”

This seemed like a good idea to her, and we drifted off to sleep while the intense heat of the day eased off and a gentle breeze made us feel better about a lot of things.

In other words…

Frances’s use of language often impresses me.

Her teacher recently told me that she believes Frances is quite a few years older than 11 (which we’ve actually been told is the case) and that she is impressed by Frances’s very dry sense of humour.

I love her sense of humour, too.

Last night, at the dinner table, the following exchange:

Pink Cup Sister: What are you talking about? You’re short!

Frances: Let’s say I’m ‘below my growth curve’…

πŸ˜‚

Pragmatic language

Me: Can I give you a muffin?

Frances: Gypsy moths are an invasive species.

Me: Okay. Here’s a muffin.

Because it remains a challenge for Frances, her social/pragmatic language often produces very unusual exchanges between us.

This one caught me off guard one recent morning, and I had to stifle a giggle.

I will always help as much as possible to make being with others easier, yet this is one facet of her personality that I absolutely adore.

No pink dinosaurs this year

It’s birthday-planning time again. Time has flown by in the blink of an eye.

I find it hard to believe, but Frances will be 11 years old this month. She is younger socially (about 8/9) and older intellectually (about 14/15).

But buying gifts isn’t as difficult as it may sound; she still only has one interest which is expressed in dolls and books and conversations and lessons: horses. (Thankfully, she has discovered, in the past year, Playmobil horse sets, so our options have expanded.)

In my previous post, I discussed the fact that some behaviours sometimes come and go, or change, well this includes her behaviour in response to stimuli such as sound (and the emotions of others).

In the past, when very young, she would hold her ears and cry (leading to lying on the ground and screaming) when her environment was too loud.

By the age of 10, she wouldn’t often lie on the ground screaming but would hold her ears and, eventually, cry.

Now, her facial expression clearly says “anxiety”, and she starts flicking/tapping her fingers which rapidly alternates with flapping her hands, while making sounds that quickly lead to crying.

Being in restaurants, school, theatres, buses, streets, malls, stores, etc. still causes her great distress. (So, I’m actually baffled by the private facility that provides her weekly social group when they choose bowling alleys as a venue.)

Of course, not all children with HF ASD react to the same stimuli or even to the same stimuli in the same situations, but Frances has always responded to “loudness” with obvious coping behaviours.

Recently, I’ve also noticed that where the emotion of others is concerned (such as if another child is angry or sad), she now repeats a word or a sentence over and over again while holding her ears and, then, while crying (when she previously would have cried without the use of language).

At any rate, we have two options when coping behaviours appear: remove Frances from the environment or have her listen to music on her phone with earphones.

Usually, we try earphones and music; if this doesn’t work, then we have to take her out of the environment either temporarily or permanently (depending on whether her distress continues and/or if she’s willing to try again.)

I wonder if the change in coping behaviours indicates an improved ability to communicate distress? Or if it means that Frances is actually in more distress than she would have been in the recent past? Or both?

Ah, so many questions as always where ASD and our girl is concerned.

Anyway, I’ve got to get some birthday shopping done now.

πŸ™‚

LOLs

I’ve just come across some of my old notes of a conversation between my sister and Frances (who was 3 years old at the time) and I’m practically dying. πŸ˜‚

Pink Cup Aunt: How do you want your toast this morning?

Frances: In semicircles.

Pink Cup Aunt: I’m not sure I know how to do that.

Frances: It’s a HALF circle…

I love this vintage gem!

Um, no…But yes, absolutely

Frances: Sarcasm β€” 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.

A for effort

Frances: I am an ARTISTE, not someone who is capable of “making friends”.

On why she shouldn’t have to go to her social group (which she did, in fact, attend — her cultural status and sensibilities notwithstanding.)

Nice try, tho’.