Gone Fishing

For a variety of reasons, I've neglected this blog for a the last 11 days. I've been avidly following Autism Diva's excellent postings (like this one) on the autism omnibus hearings in federal court, as well as reading many truly excellent posts on a lot of other blogs. I've rejoiced that Bev's rapier satirical wit (and consummate graphical skills) over at Asperger Square 8 are getting the recognition they deserve, as one of her illustrations got picked up in an Arthur Allen article in Slate. And I've felt down as yet more reports of abuse and murder of the disabled continue to come in.

I'm also a teaching physician, and the year for our residents ends this week, and another year starts next week. I've been busy finishing things up the last couple weeks, and I'll be especially busy the next 6-8 weeks, as I help to get the new residents settled in.

But before I go into "occasional posting" mode, I'd like to relate what happened over the last couple of weeks when I took the kids fishing.



The local park district had a "family fishing day" at one of the local parks. They stocked the ponds ahead of time, and it sounded like a nice way to spend the day. So I took the two kids out, and we had a good time (mostly). Like a good dad, I was in charge of baiting the hooks (with worms), untangling lines, and assisting with casting (as well as keeping the kids out of everyone else's area).

I had taken the kids out twice last year, without any luck, as well as once earlier this year, which was unsuccessful. But the kids wanted to go (and I love to fish, though I don't get much chance lately), and I thought we would have a good time.

Sweet Pea took right to it this time, and hauled in 7 fish. Buddy Boy didn't catch any. After Sweet Pea had caught 4, I had them change spots and change poles, but it was no use. Sweet Pea continued to haul them in. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that with her competitive nature she just had to lord it over Buddy Boy. This caused Buddy Boy to lose interest in fishing, so I let him go dig some holes in the dirt with a stick (one of his favorite activities), while I got our stuff together. Then we all headed over to the playground equipment, which made them both happy.



The following week (last week) Sweet Pea had started day camp, but Buddy Boy still had not, so I took him fishing again with me when I had a day off. This time he was successful, and caught 4 fish. We probably caught the same fish he's holding in the picture four times, but that was fine with him and me. We also spent some time playing at the edge of a fountain, and on some of the playground equipment. It was a good day.

When we picked Sweet Pea up from camp that day Buddy Boy told her about catching fish. I expected her to a) get upset that we went without her, and b) emphasize that her fish were bigger and she caught more. To my surprise (and delight) she did neither.

Instead, what she said when she heard was "Way to go, Buddy Boy! That's great!". I couldn't believe my ears. As soon as I could catch my breath, I made sure to praise her for being such a good sister by celebrating Buddy Boy's catch.

Raising kids is never boring. And even though it can be challenging at times, the good surprises that happen make it all great.

I'll continue hanging out in the blogoshere, but probably won't post quite so much for the next couple months. But I'll be thinking about all of you.

Joe

Noise-Part 1

Of the many different definitions of noise, two leap out at me as directly applying to autism. One is "acoustic noise", which can be defined as meaningless sound of greater than usual volume. The second is what I term "informational noise", or meaningless information that obscures true data.

As this is only my second blogging post, I'm going to deal with the first definition today. I'll save dealing with the second for another time.

The way Buddy Boy reacts to acoustical noise in his environment has always fascinated me. On the one hand, he is quite sensitive to many loud (and only mildly loud) sounds. The first time we took him to a circus we had quite a time of it (hands over ears, screaming, etc.). It was obvious that he was physically in pain. This same reaction has been repeated several times in many different settings, though over the last year or so it has not been as bad. We don't purposely take him to loud places (I may be a bad parent, but I wouldn't purposely torture my son), but he will want to go somewhere, we will warn him that it will be loud, he'll insist on going, then want to leave immediately.

At the same time, though, there seems the innate ability to overcome/adapt/deal with acoustic noise if the stakes are high enough. For example, the lure of a McDonald's Happy Meal with it's enclosed toy is enough for Buddy Boy to want to go to the children's play area there (even though it sometimes has noise levels that hurt my aging ears). Another example is a kids play place in our area that has tubes to crawl through, food, and bunches of games for kids to play that pay out "tickets" (For Americans, think Chuckie Cheese on steroids). This place has noise levels that rival standing behind a 747 on a runway before takeoff. Yet I constantly get badgered by Buddy Boy to go there, as he is fixated on collecting the tickets. Not because he wants to trade them in for trinkets at the desk on the way out, but because he is obsessed with the tickets themselves. He's happy spending hours in there. We always need a strong motivator to get him to leave this place without creating a big scene.

What is it that enables Buddy Boy to sometimes put up with horrendous amounts of noise at one time, yet to be in physical pain from lesser amounts of noise at others?

There must be a research study in there somewhere.