Gathering Drum

I was looking at a big drum in a local import store and I thought I would like to have a big drum to try with my young friends at the clinic where I work. We are recipients of funds from a regional autism walk which is coming up in September.  So, I was thinking that perhaps I could buy a drum with those funds.  June, July, August, September (probably October by the time we get the money)--I thought that I could have a new drum in about five months.

The next day, the parent of a child at our clinic came into my office and asked if I thought we might be able to use a big drum in our clinic.  She brought a Gathering Drum in a week later-- so I only waited one week!

I already use some lovely lollipop drums in imitation games with children.  See the video clip of a drumming game on this page. I started out trying to use the big drum in a similar way--which is to say that I was planning to show the child a way to use the drums and then, whatever the child did with the drum, I would imitate the same behavior.  This is kind of what happened but there were some twists and turns and variations with the Gathering Drum that I did not expect.  I also found some unique opportunities with the Gathering Drum that everyone seemed to enjoy.

First Child: Amber was able to copy my simple drumming patterns.  Left hand, three hits, right hand two.  Left hand three hits, right hand two. We were soon drumming this rhythm out together.  I don't know much about drumming, you understand, but Amber and I were rocking out here and we both felt pretty cool.  Your turn!  I said to Amber.  You are the leader this time.  What should we do?  Amber started sliding her hands on the drum, making almost no sound at all.  I tried to copy her hand movements.  Then she put her hands up to her face.  I copied this.  She was delighted but I was disappointed. I thought we were doing a sound game but evidently, she was more interested in a visual imitation game.  That looks cool.  I said, but could you make it sound cool?  You could hit the drum.  She did hit the drum for a bit but soon slipped back to her hand movement game.  Curious, I thought.

Second Child: The second drummer did not want to drum at all with me--he wanted to play with wooden blocks on the drum.  He started stacking small wooden blocks up on the Gathering Drum and then, when he pounded on the drum with his hands, the blocks fell over.  That was fun--but also not what I was expecting.


Third Child: The next day, I used the drum to pound out the rhythm of a child jumping on my small  trampoline.  That worked out well because, ordinarily, when this nonverbal child starts jumping on the trampoline, he becomes completely focused on watching himself do this in front of a mirror.  This time, after he figured out the game, he shifted his attention to me before starting to jump and used his eye-gaze to communicate that he expected me to start drumming as he started jumping. He was stopping and starting his jumping in order to get me to start and stop drumming.

So, now you are caught up on the drumming adventure, thus far.  I will add more drumming events of interest as they occur.

Why Drum: I always explain to parents why I am drumming with their child and why they should drum with their child as well.  This needs to be explained because I am clearly not a very skilled drummer and a parent might wonder where this kind of drumming is going, given my obvious lack of talent.

1. Drumming is fun.  Even for the unskilled--which I hope to demonstrate for the child since he or she is also unskilled but can have fun anyway.
2. One of the most important early skills a child can learn is imitation--but this can be a very hard skill to learn for children who have trouble watching another person and doing what he or she did.  This is a motor planning difficulty--meaning that the child can't just watch another person and then make his or her body do the same thing.  Maybe some children don't imitate because they don't understand the highly social concept of imitation or it does not seem fun or interesting to imitate but I suspect it is really a combination of issues that make a child with autism less inclined toward imitation.  Imitating a child on a drum tends to interest the child in the whole concept of imitation.  If you use simple rhythms (start, stop, fast, slow, one..two...three...one...two...three, hit the top of the drum then the bottom of the drum) most young children start to imitate adults in drumming.  From there, you can teach other games of imitation.
3. When and if you get to the place that Amber and I did, and you can actually drum out a repeated rhythm over and over, the child has an opportunity to enjoy how it magnifies the experience if you do something like this together. This is a great social concept for a child with autism to learn.
4. In the trampoline/drum activity, the child was feeling the power of being in control of a cause/effect activity.  The child is learning to shift attention between an activity and a play partner--another skill that is important if a child is ever to be able to play with peers. 

This list of why drumming is good could continue on and on--but perhaps this will be enough to convince you to wish for a drum.  If you are lucky, maybe one will magically appear for you too.

Coming to Consensus

Yesterday, as two five year old boys played together at the clinic, it became harder and harder to keep them in the same game and physical location.  They had played together well through a game of Trouble (modified rules) and they took turns in a little building project, sitting side-by-side and sometimes giving one another suggestions but near the end of the hour, they were tired of working together. The boys were at opposite sides of the room.

I asked them both to sit backwards on two chairs that were close together--which was novel enough to keep them seated next to one another for a bit.  Do you boys want to play the Bunny Game or Shoot with the Shooting Ice Cream Cone?  I asked.  Shoot!  shouted Andy.  I do not agree!  said Charles who understood that my objective was to find something they both wanted to do.  It went on like this through several more choices, where one of the boys would want to play a game and the other would not--probably as a matter of principle.  The pattern was set and I knew we were not going to reach an agreement anytime soon.

I thought carefully, hoping to help them get unstuck from the pattern of disagreeing.  Do you want to go outside and swing together or do you want to sit here and argue about what you are going to do?  Our play yard has not been used since last fall but it was a gloriously warm day and I thought they would be eager to get outside.  Their eyes lit up at this suggestion and both boys agreed right away.  Argue! they shouted.  I gave up and said, Come on boys, let's get outta here and swing!

It is Just Pretend, Right?

I was playing Cranium Cariboo with a five year old child who has an Autism Spectrum Disorder and with his little sister, Amy. Actually, I was helping them play with each other but I had to stay very involved to keep them taking turns and enjoying the game. Amy is three and her brother is five. I might have been the one to learn the most from the game, though. Amy was my teacher.

Cranium Cariboo is a favorite game of mine because it has several of the best game elements ever, but I still need to modify the game somewhat to make it useful for my young friends with ASD. The game provides a little purple key that opens any of the 15 doors. First two great game elements: keys and doors. Behind each of the doors may or may not be a bright colored ball. Two more great game elements: Balls and a little bit of uncertainty. As the child finds each hidden ball behind a door, he or she puts the ball into a chute via a hole and when all the balls are collected and crammed into the chute, a treasure box opens to reveal a shiny jewel. Three more great game elements: Collecting several bright objects, putting things into a hole, and a treasure box. This game is nearly perfect with so many delightful elements but children with ASD may still find it hard to persist and stay calm enough to play the game because of the element of uncertainty. Sometimes a ball is behind a door and sometimes nothing is behind a door.

The uncertainty element, minimal though it is, can be so overwhelming that I need to support children who have autism so that they can get through this part. If I don't help (and even if I do) my young friends often cheat, leaning down to peek in the doors and see where balls are located. They don't know the social concept of cheating, of course, and it really does not apply when children are this age but sometimes a parent gets upset when a child peeks. So, I need to support parents, too, to get them through this part since they don't know what high level concept cheating is or how many prerequisite skills a child needs to understand first. The truth is, I think peeking is a good strategy if the child feels distressed, just as I feel that it is OK for me to skip to the end of a literary thriller if I get too overwhelmed with the tension while reading a book. Unfortunately, it ruins the book for me if I read the ending and I think it ruins the game, emotionally, for the child to peek and find the balls, so I try to avoid the peeking/cheating issue altogether and provide another strategy to help my young friends deal with the disappointment of not finding a ball behind every door. I used a "dealing with disappointment" strategy to help Amy's brother, and it worked but the educational part for me was how Amy responded.

My "dealing with disappointment strategy" was inspired by Dr. Stanley Greenspan, who suggests that adults should use pretend play solutions to solve real problems--with the real problem, in this case, being that a child can feel upset to find no ball. I distract the child from the potential discomfort by pretending that finding no ball is a HUGE catastrophe to me. I pretend to get very upset and say something like, Oh No! This is sad news! NO BALL! Both Amy and her brother were riveted by this bit of theatrics. (I love it that I can be an Oscar award worthy actress when playing with children.)

My theatrics were entertaining enough that finding a ball or not finding a ball were equally rewarding for Amy's brother but my exaggerated expressions were a little too convincing for Amy. She turned with a look of distress on her face to ask her mom if everything was really OK. Tahirih is just pretending sad, right? she said, looking as though she were ready to start crying. Mom assured Amy that I was, indeed, Just Pretending. Amy calmed down right away with her mom's assurances. She took the key to look for a ball and fervently commented, I just love this game. This process of regulating her emotional state with pretend play was so interesting to Amy that she checked everytime with mom to see if I was just pretending and every time she commented on how much she loved the game.

Willing Little Warrior

I took Brent with me to pick a toy from our toy closet this morning. I said, Hold my hand, let's get a toy. This is not part of our routine. He lifted a limp hand to put in mine and I turned back and leaned down beside Brent to say We will be right back, Mommy. Brent's beautiful blue eyes were somber through this exchange looking at me in his quiet, serious way. I was pretty sure he had no idea where we were going, or why, and he had no idea what I had said to his mom. Still, he came with me, willing to take on so many unknowns just because I asked.

At the toy closet, Brent looked over the toys and games carefully but stayed very serious given the riches I had set before him. He did not reach out to select anything. I encouraged him to desire something saying, Brent wants..... No response for a while so I waited while he looked longer. Brent finally saw a toy stoplight and looked suddenly alert. He did not look at me but he said, Do you see Stoplight? He was not asking me if I saw the stoplight but rather was imitating what others say when they notice his interest in something--he was tentitively requesting the stoplight. I said Brent wants stoplight. OK and handed the box to him.

Brent dropped to the floor immediately and opened the box to pull the stoplight out. Wait. I said, gently as I took the box from his hands. We will play in Tahirih's room. Since I had picked a second toy to take back with us, my hands were full and the lid to the stoplight box was on the floor. Get the lid. I said. No response. Pick the lid up. I tried. No response. I touched the lid with my foot and said Brent, pick up the lid. Brent immediately put his foot on the lid too. Brent did not understand a word I had said but, sweet boy, he was quite willing to do what he thought I wanted him to do.

I don't know why, exactly, but this moment made my heart feel--I don't know what to call it. When a child is so willing and so brave, I feel some constellation of admiration, sadness, and love.

Following a Child's Lead

Some of the best games are games that you make up, on the spot, when a child seems to be interested in other things and not playing with you. Such was the case today. I had a game in mind with a set of puzzles but Michael took one puzzle over to the corner wall, took a few pieces out of it and studied each piece by himself. With his back to me, he could not have said more clearly, Leave me alone, I am busy. So the challenge was, how do I find a way to help Michael want to play with me?

Let me lay this challenge out a little more clearly:

1. I don't want to grab puzzle pieces out of Michael's hands (this is not only rude and undignified--it also encourages Michael to grab).


2. I don't want to give up on puzzles, since he is clearly interested in them (although I could have pulled something more interesting out and made sure I kept control of the materials this time).


3. Michael has told me that he sees me as an unnessary complication in regards to this puzzle play and I want him to see me as an important and interesting part of his play.


I give Michael a little time to study the puzzle pieces--which are signs, like road signs and such. While he studies the pieces, I study what he is doing with each one. He takes each one and puts it up against the wall--often trying to place two or three above and below each other--but they fall out of his hands if he lines up too many. I can't figure out why exactly but I try it and line up puzzle piece against the wall beside him. I don't get much of a sensory buzz out of this and I can't remember seeing signs lined up this way in the real world, so I don't know what he is doing or why. He is aware that I am doing something with puzzles next to him but I am probably not doing the thing that Michael was trying to accomplish so Michael is not interested.



Plan B. I think about other things that Michael is interested in that might explain his interest in these particular puzzle pieces--since he actually likes to put inset puzzles into their appropriate spots on the puzzle, what he is doing seems curious. Two of the pieces in his hands have words written on them. STOP and First Aid and the third depicts a stoplight. I know he likes to spell words. I pick up a pencil and trace a sign and then write the words on it as I spell it out. C A U T I O N spells Caution I say. Now Michael is looking at what I am doing with interest. I continue to write and spell words and he hands me puzzle pieces now when I hold out my hand for another one to spell. I hand back each puzzle piece as soon as I am done so he does not think I have devised a tricky way to get them away from him. I think to myself that I could line them up, in written form, one on top of the other and I do that on the paper. Michael clearly likes this idea. We are in business, he is completely hooked on this new game. By including me in his play, Michael is able to accomplish exactly what he intended.

Words are Gems to Collect

"As toddlers, first we grab and then we grab with words. Every word we learn is an acquisition, a bit of gold that makes us richer. We catch a new word and say it over and over, turning it like a rich nugget in the light. As children, we hoard and gloat over words. Words give ownership: we name our world and we claim it."  by Julia Cameron, The Right to Write

Children with autism often acquire words later but whenever it happens, it is just as wonderful to them and to those of us who have been waiting.  It is an extraordinary time to witness--that period when a child first understands words as gems--intrinsically interesting, available to collect, and magically powerful in both the internal world of thought and the external world of social interaction.  How surprising it must be when a child first comprehends that fleeting strings of sounds can represent objects, movements, events, time, color, feelings.  These words turn young speakers into poets, scholars, and rulers.

An example: One four year old, very new collector of words, looked out the window last week, and he studied a helicopter taking off from a pad on top of the hospital. Noisy fan on, he said after a thoughtful moment.  Because he had found, in his new shining collection of words, three words that were perfect, he suddenly was a poet, a scholar, and a king.  He was a poet because he combined words in an original creative way to express his thought.  He was a scholar because he had a tool for recording his observation and a way to share and discuss his discovery.  In the world of his own expanding imagination, he was a king who could rule over the roaring flying fans that would quickly join cars, trucks and trains in the kingdom of his play.

Bella Luna Wooden Helicopter

Strap Me Down and Take Me to the Hospital!

Andrew was not very cooperative today. Andrew announced that he did not want to come in to see me at all when they pulled into the parking lot. Not a good sign. He has been prickly all day, mom said, helping me resist, temporarily, the tendency we all have to take these things personally. But it continued to be hard to get Andrew engaged in play and I let self-doubt in when mom asked me why I was letting him control the session although she sounded more curious than critical when she asked. I floundered with an answer. Maybe I said something like I feel like I might push him too far and then it would take weeks for us to get back what we had last week. Who knows what I actually said but I started to feel inadequate. Again, she kept a neutral tone but she mentioned that she does not always have the luxury of letting him choose what to do. Valid point, I thought and I decided I needed to take a different approach. I started to prioritize compliance.

I began to exert a little more pressure on Andrew but I regretted it immediately. I felt Andrew's panic when I tried to keep him playing a game longer than he wanted to stay. The week before, I could keep him in a game after he had expressed a desire to be done for several more turns and even rekindle his enthusiasm for the game. I never felt any panic in Andrew while doing this. Valid point, Mom, I think, but I will need to problem solve this from your perspective at a later time. I went back to my original objective and tried to find a way for Andrew to participate willingly. In order to do this, I had to remind myself that I did not have to look like I was in control at all times and hopefully I would find a way to explain myself better when I was not so busy working it through with Andrew. Mom talked more, as the session went on about how she often just leaves Andrew to himself when he is like this at home and when she can. I guess I don't have the luxury of doing that, I told her. But it sounded like a reasonable strategy as each thing I tried seemed to alienate Andrew more.

In recent weeks, Andrew and mom and I have set up some great pretend play sessions where our pretend play characters engage in extended conversation and Andrew is right there playing cooperatively, flexibly, creatively. Today, Andrew seemed unable to comprehend even simple language and if I tried to extend a conversation for even a couple turns, he turned his head away and told me we were all done. I started thinking we needed a game with lots of sensory input because sometimes this kind of game improves language functioning and Andrew agreed to swing for a while. After a few swings, I tried a different approach to conversation--something more structured like I might do with a child who has far less language comprehension than Andrew does, or did, anyway, last week. I set up a routine where I would stop the swing every few pushes and ask Andrew to do something before I pushed the swing again. I started using very simple language. Touch your nose! Swing, swing, swing, stop. Touch your ear. Swing, swing, swing, stop. Andrew did what I asked for a few times and then said he was all done faces.

Andrew popped out of the swing and ran around the room a bit, stopping at a folded mat that was tied together with stretchy straps (pictured below). He climbed under the straps. Mom saw right away that he was pretending to be in an ambulance, strapped down on a gurney, on his way to the hospital--which really happened to Andrew last summer when he had a seizure. I wonder if he is about to have a seizure? mom asked, now caught up as I was in the mystery of Andrew's behavior. He has been going to the bathroom all day and that happened before he had a seizure last time. Like me, she was wondering if Andrew might have a very good reason for being unable to settle in and play.

I don't know how much more eloquent Andrew could have been in telling us that something was not right for him today. He started trying to tell us with his restless, chaotic behavior. In the end, he found a metaphor. Strap me down and take me to the hospital. I don't know how this story will go or if we will figure out what Andrew needs when he can't settle. My point in this story, though, is that I almost ignored Andrew altogether in my need to feel like a competent professional. This happens most often when a child who, like Andrew, seems like he should be able to do so, fails to comply with expectations. I should know better because I often end up learning a great deal and finding important ways to support a child or family after sessions that go badly. But, like everyone else, I can forget. After today, I am back at the drawing board, puzzling about Andrew. Right where I should be.

Aaron's Story, The Beginning

My colleague, Angela Fellman M.A., a newly graduated Speech Language Pathologist, has just started working with a little guy, Aaron. Aaron is a young child with autism. He is not yet talking nor intentionally communicating beyond crying when he is upset and running when something does not appeal. He moves rapidly and constantly. He dashes from one side of a room to the other, switches on and off lights, ducks when Angela reaches for him even to save him from falling and bolts out the door if she stops being vigilant for even a moment. Aaron may be making Angela re-consider her chosen profession. After an hour, she looks sweaty and discouraged. But, she keeps trying to find activities that will win him over. Are there any activities that would win Aaron over? He seems unwilling to meet her half-way. But if he could talk and explain his position, I think the conversation might go like this: Angela would say, Aaron come play with me. Aaron would replay, I don't understand what you want me to do.



The games seem appropriate; Angela wants Aaron to pop bubbles with her, knock down blocks, swing in a swing, drop balls down a length of gutter. Aaron has shown the ability to do all of these things. He pops a couple bubbles but then tries to mouth the bubble wand and she ends up wrestling it away from him. He knocks down one block but then lobs the next one across the room. He drops one ball down the gutter and then runs toward the unguarded exit door. He swings for a moment and then wants down. If Angela starts to direct him toward another activity, he instantly melts to the floor, morphing into a thousand pound puddle. He is doing these activities for an instant but never for long and never with any apparent enjoyment. He seems unable to sustain any activity for long enough for it to become social, playful, or pleasurable.

I often wonder, with a child like Aaron, if he understands any activity as an Event. Does he perceive any time frames in his life as having a beginning, a sequence, an end. It is a trick of the mind to slice up the continuous stream of life into events. Children learn this trick over time with more and more complex sequences coming to feel like distinct events. Children learn to call one period of time, taking a walk and another period of time, eating, and still another period of time driving to the store. Children learn to see one moment as the beginning of an event and a series of moments as part of the event and a distinct moment as the end of the event. Maybe with driving, for example, it is opening the car door and getting in or getting out that defines the driving event. But what if a child never mentally grouped moments into events? What if the child just bumped into one moment after another without ever having a sense of starting, being part way done, or ending--well, anything? Well, then a child would behave just like Aaron does.



How could we tie a series of moments together in Aaron's mind so that he could begin to perceive a group of moments as an Event?

The way we usually write this goal is: Aaron will willingly engage for three to five turns in a variety of games with an adult.

We write goals so that they are measurable but it often helps to try to imagine the way a child understands what he or she is doing (even though we can't directly measure this) and so Angela will try to help Aaron understand each game as an Event with a beginning, a middle and an end. As Angela finds a way to engage Aaron in several new games, as I am sure she will, I will let you know how she does it. To be continued.

Dr. Kidd's Game,

Dr. Kidd has been on a mission lately to get some recreation going for kids on the spectrum. I was a little skeptical about her baseball (actually Wiffle ball) idea. But I assumed that 1) she would pull it off with some kind of visual support magic or something, and 2) she was a talented baseball player--and this would make up for my barely knowing a shortstop from a catcher. I invited kids, and altogether we had four elementary aged children. These kiddos clearly knew as much as I did about baseball, which is to say nearly nothing--except for one who knew a lot about the numerical aspects of baseball. The surprise was that 1) Dr. Kidd did not need much in the way of specialized visual supports because the kids were quite enthusiastic about playing, and the game intrinsically has good supports 2) Dr. Kidd did not appear to know much more about baseball than I did.


My daughter's boyfriend, who does know baseball, was roped in and played pitcher for both sides. The parents, siblings and neighbor kids were also there and some appeared to know at least some of the language of baseball. The language kept the whole game moving along. Go batter batter batter! You're Out! Strike Two and One Half! There is a lot of distinctive, and highly charged language to this game and here is a tip to remember: kids on the spectrum love distinctive and highly charged language. Baseball language is all so intense and specific. So, the distinctive language and the distinctive place and the distinctive props (balls, bats, gloves, and bases) all provided enough support to keep the kids focused and enthusiastic. We should have had uniforms--at least two different colored t-shirts to designate teams because some of us kept forgetting what team we were on. This was our only planning mistake, and even this did not matter much because the game was sustained not so much by clear rules or structure, but by a united effort to make sure every participant had a good time.

Clearly, sports are not usually on my radar but I had a wonderful time yesterday. I knew all the kids who were playing. I met each of them first at a time in their lives when playing baseball of any kind seemed unlikely. This was a lack of imagination on my part, apparently. As I was tagged out by a little boy who could not say a word when I first met him, I wanted to cry. Tahirih, he said, there are two outs and our team is ahead by five runs. I looked at him with mock consternation and told him that it was soooo unfair! But the truth is, we are all in charge of making things fair in the social world. With a little effort, imagination, love and little else--we can level the playing field so as to include anyone who wants to play.

Children of the Stars

Even the trailer for this movie had me in tears....

Children of the Stars

Dora and the Slide Game, Blow-by-Blow

Aaron was just three years old when I met him. This was several years ago now. When Aaron's mom and I first started working together with Aaron, he rarely used words. He seemed to understand a few things that his parents said, like Go outside and Time for Night Night. He seemed to comprehend the name of some of his little movie characters, like Dora and Sponge Bob. He liked small toy characters, often holding one in each hand, especially when he left home. I started with Aaron by using toys and activities that already interested him and so Dora came under consideration right away. As I was teaching Aaron's mom how to play with Aaron, I would often break down the whole sequence of our play and tell her not just what I was doing but why I was doing it and what I was learning about Aaron as we played. I would talk through sessions as much as I do in the section that follows, explaining at length a game as simple as the one I show in the video model above.



One day, the goal was to introduce Aaron to this little pretend play idea: Dora, Swiper and Boots can climb up this little slide and then slide down. Up, up, up, Weeee! I introduced Aaron to the game with this single repeated phrase and action and did not vary what I said beyond that for a while. I chose the slide because I knew that Aaron was a little afraid of slides. This made sliding a powerful pretend play idea. Children like to pretend about slightly scary things. In the world of pretend, they are safe but can explore what is scary. I call these slightly scary play ideas, Safe Emergencies. I am always looking for ideas like this that might engage a child in pretend play because a child will often try to pretend a Safe Emergency idea even if no other pretend play idea interests the child. Pretend play skills will often emerge when these opportunities are provided--a notion that I first learned from Dr. Stanley Greenspan in his writings. For many children, the slide itself, tends to make this particular game work, perhaps because a slide has such a distinctive shape and what one does on a slide is such a distinctive activity.


This pretend play idea worked with Aaron. Aaron willingly started attending as I said, Up, up, up, Weeee! over and over while taking Dora, Boots, and Swiper up the ladder and down the slide. I was thrilled when Aaron spontaneously tried to take Dora up the ladder himself but he managed only half the action before disaster struck. The ladder fell over. I knew Aaron was ready to quit the game at that point because he could not coordinate the movement of taking Boots up the ladder and keep the precarious ladder upright. Before Aaron could bolt away, I put my hand over his and helped him take Boots up the ladder. Up, up, up, Weeee! I said, to let him know why I was holding his hand. He let me do this. The week before, Aaron protested every time I tried to help him do something hand-over-hand, so I knew that Aaron really wanted to learn how to do this. I soon let go of Aaron's hand and he tried it again himself. When he still needed help, he put his hand by mine so that I would help. He never looked at me but I knew he was making a request. I did not even model the word Help. I did not want to jinx the cooperative spirit. It was a triumph for both of us when Aaron finally could take a character up without help.



Up, up, up, Weee! I would say. Swiper's turn ...Dora wants a turn... Boots is next. Now I used a few more words as we played because I knew Aaron could listen to what I said. Since he was not struggling anymore with the motor planning task of taking each character up the steps, and, in fact, was doing this easily, I thought he might have some mental room left over for listening.

While teaching Aaron's mom about the sliding game, I spent time explaining how hard learning new motor sequences was for Aaron--something his mom had not observed because Aaron tended to move quickly away from any task that was hard for him to do. She did not see his motor planning difficulty because he looked coordinated as he did most things. I explained to Aaron's mom that for Aaron, learning a new motor skill was perhaps like when she first learned to drive. You can't see how hard it was to learn to drive once the driver has learned the skill. I told her that not talking too much while a child is learning a new motor task is helpful. The new driver analogy works here, too. You don't talk too much to a new driver. A new driver needs to focus on driving. Once driving becomes automatic, then the driver can drive and talk.



As the game progressed with Aaron, my primary role became narrator of the play, because Aaron could not do this. Pretend play is much more engaging if there is language to tie it all together, even for nonverbal children. Most three year old children narrate their own pretend play but Aaron could not do that. I still took characters up the slide as I played with Aaron, though, since I wanted to be able to add new ideas to the play and I wanted the play to be social. It was not a struggle to take turns in this game, although in many other activities, if I took a turn, Aaron would try to gather and leave with all the toys. Dora wants a turn. Now Boots wants a turn. I would say. Aaron waited and watched with interest when I took a character up. I think he wanted to see what I might do next. I was quite pleased when Aaron independently lined characters up in a straight row behind the ladder--as he had seen me do previously. This indicated a deeper understanding of what we were pretending than I had expected. Aaron spontaneously started to say the words too, uh, uh, uh, eeee. This was his version of Up, Up, Up, Wheeee. This, too, suggested that Aaron was really playing. I had not prompted him to say anything. In fact, I rarely prompt children to say words, which is a surprise to many parents. But I don't need to tell a child to talk if I pick the right game and the right words, because the child will want to talk. Talking will make sense to the child.

Mom and I were both very excited when Aaron said these words. Reciting words (or saying words when prompted) is not the same as using words to for real purposes, like to narrate pretend play. I reserve excitement for the words children say for a real reason--to comment, ask, complain, refuse. I was excited to hear Aaron's words, because I was showing Aaron how to narrate play with words and he was giving it a try. Narrating play is a real reason for talking and it is intrinsically rewarding--meaning that the child is likely to say words for this reason without the adult praising him or giving him a reward beyond naturally responding to what he or she says.

I stuck with this routine in the game a while longer because I could see that Aaron was learning and I could feel that he was engaged willingly and happily in the game. But after a few more turns, Aaron apparently found the game too repetitive and started to lose interest so I had to add something to the game. I added a new play element Boots is tired, he needs a nap. Goodnight Boots. Go to sleep. Shhh! I saw that this play idea caught Aaron's attention and made him smile. He put Dora down on her back to sleep, too. So, I said, Goodnight Dora, Go to sleep! Shhh! Again, Aaron couldn't narrate the play with these new words, so that continued to be my job but when I did it well, with words he liked hearing, he was clearly more interested in the play.

As I explained to his mom, I had to watch everything that Aaron did, or else I could miss my opportunity to be the narrator so I stayed focused on every move that Aaron made in the game and added words when this would make the play better. I did not add words simply to be talking because talking too would cause Aaron to stop listening. The words were used so that Aaron could enjoy the play more. Just that.

Aaron and I made the characters take naps and go down the slide for several more turns before I could see that Aaron's interest was again waning. I continued to add little variations to keep Aaron playing with me. I don't keep games going though if a child has lost interest and I can't find a way to make it fun again. I sometimes misjudge and add the wrong thing. With Aaron, I tried to bring a Pooh Bear character into the game to slide but Aaron pushed Pooh Bear away and would have left the game at that point except that I said Go Away Pooh Bear! He did not like Pooh Bear included but he liked the idea of verbally sending Pooh Bear away! It was not long after that session that Aaron learned to say Go Away! I created a Go Away game before the next time he came because he had shown so much interest in sending Pooh Bear away.

One of the things that makes pretend play so much fun for children is the power that the pretend world provides. It is important to show a child how powerful he or she can be when pretending. For example, I thought that Pooh Bear might make the play more interesting but Aaron did not agree. Because I supported his idea of excluding Pooh Bear, Aaron successfully made a rule in the game--Only Dora characters can play on this slide today. He did not fully understand what he had done, yet, but I knew that Aaron was going to enjoy being a rule-maker in the world of play. We would go on to share and negotiate rule-making power in many a game. In fact, recently, when I played with Aaron and was able to ask him if he wanted to change the rule in a board game, he answered, Yeah, maybe you should write it down, Tahirih, because you always forget new rules.

Back then, when we first started, I remember our slide game as a great learning session. I could not know then how far Aaron would go, and we never really know that with any child. But I did know that on that day, we had both learned a lot--which made it a great day. I had learned to understand Aaron better, in part by playing with him and in part by explaining what I was learning and doing to his mom. The game might have looked simple, but it was not. Just by taking three characters up and down a slide and laying them on their backs, Aaron had entered the world of pretend play for the first time! The key to this amount of learning was repetition and routine and the gradual introduction of new ideas. Predictability was the hook that drew Aaron into play with me. Once in, the gradual introduction of new ideas allowed him to learn more and more.


I don't use straight drill work, which was a surprise to Aaron's mom, when we started. She was expecting something that looked more like school drills when she brought Aaron to me. But play with this much repetition is a close cousin to drill. It is the exciting and more powerful cousin. Emotions are not highly engaged when one is practicing language but emotions are highly engaged when one is using language in play. In pretend play, the child actually wants to use new communication skill in order to make something happen in the play. With Aaron, he wanted to talk because narrating the pretend play idea made it more fun. He wanted to learn to tell people and things to Go Away! both in pretend and in real life. In play, the child practices language over and over but everytime he or she is using language as a communication tool.

In pretend play, I discourage parents from using praise when the child talks. I don't want the parent to say something like Good Job talking Aaron! because it will interrupt the flow of the play. Instead, I encourage parents to respond, respond, respond! Good night, mommy! I said to Aaron's mom. Aaron said igh. She took our cue and laid right down beside Dora and Boots.

Please read previous post as the two posts are related.

Today I am Cake

Guest Post by Tamara Pogin M.A. C.C.C. Speech & Language Pathologist

I started working with a little boy, Ethan, this week. I confessed to Mom that I am muddling through these first sessions, trying to stumble upon strategies that work as I take in information about his needs, his strengths, his likes and dislikes.

Today, we had a high point when Ethan expanded his pretend play by inviting his favorite lovey toy to get in the pretend car with us. We also had a low point when he cried inconsolably about our clinic not having the right swing when we went outside.

When it was time for Ethan to go home, he was still visibly upset, though no longer crying. I started singing a goodbye song from Super Simple Songs Three (#19). I held his hand and sang as we walked down the hallway. Ethan loves music. For one of the few times that session, he looked right at me and said with sheer relief, You're cake. His mom said that that was a good thing, but she didn't need to tell me that. Little Ethan was telling me, You found something that made me feel better. Whether it was the sound of my voice, or my hand in his, or some combination of both, I plan on doing it again. I am hoping next time will be better and that we'll continue to get the chance to learn from each other. Today, I learned that it is good to be cake.

Well, Hello Sweetheart

Today we introduced Monster, Monster, Please Come Out! to Annie. This is one of our favorite RDI Games and we play it sooner or later with most kids. I have been working with Annie for over a year but I kind of felt like I met her for the first time today as we played this game. She loved this game from the first moment! While we played, she looked at me again and again to share her excitement. Particularly when her mom was playing the Monster, she would reach out and hold my hand, lean toward me, look back and forth between the Monster Den and my face, apparently checking to see if I too was excited, a little scared, gleeful like she was. She was so overflowing with delight and anticipation that she had to share. Annie spontaneously took a turn being the Monster after she saw it done twice. This was amazing. She immediately understood her role as she and I called the monster from the den. She saw and wanted to take the other role too of being the monster in the den. The motor planning aspects of both roles made the game hard for her to carry out. She mouthed or whispered the chant, Monster, Monster, Please Come Out! but could not say it out loud. When she pretended to be a monster bursting out of the den, she was a little uncertain about who to chase or what to do. The difficulty did not stop her from enjoying the game, though.

Over the years, I have known a number of children who, like Annie, have very low muscle tone and slump against mom, a wall or me as they sit on the floor. Every activity is hampered by this underlying weakness and compounded by motor planning difficulty. Annie is typical of this group of children who seem to have a muscle weakness/motor planning disorder as a core feature of their autism. Annie does not show facial expressions except when she is feeling intensely. She has to be very excited or pleased (or anxious) to smile, very mad to look angry, very sad to look sad. She has no apparent nuanced or dynamic facial expressions. Her vocal intonation for speech is monotone although she can sing and loves to sing. She often whispers when she intentionally tells me something. When I first met her, she needed to actually turn around and touch a chair in order to sit on it--otherwise she literally fell on the floor missing the chair's seat. Her gait is awkward and she often bumps into things and falls. She giggles as she does things that are forbidden but she does not sound mischievous, she sounds anxious. Forbidden things are opening and shutting doors, turning on and off fans, turning on and off faucets, switching on and off lights. Annie, like every other child I have known with this kind of autism, seems compelled to repeat cause/effect behaviors. She is also prone to repeating behavior when there is a predictable and intense social reaction. If mom says sharply Don't hit the glass Annie! and Annie is put in a timeout chair for doing so, Annie will hit the glass again and again--even though she cries every time she is scolded and "punished". These naughty behaviors become a cause/effect loop and she cannot find her way out of these without help any more than she can resist turning on a faucet. Beyond these compulsive cause/effect behavioral routines, Annie often seems to need to go back to the start of any activity and start over to make the routine go exactly as expected. If she trips coming into a room, she goes back to the door and comes in again. If one block falls off a stack, she knocks them all down and builds the stack again--sometimes a dozen times before she either gets the stack to the height she wants or gives up and lurches away almost as though she is forcing herself away from the activity. On her own, this is the kind of activity that Annie will choose and this kind of activity does not seem like fun to me. But even the games that I teach her ,often end up feeling like a compulsive loop that Annie "must" do and not the kind of fun that play should be.

Annie has had hundreds of hours of drill work (not with me as I don't typically use drills to teach language) and she raced through the skill sets of matching, labellings, wh-questions and so on but she still usually needs just the right prompts to reenact these behaviors outside of therapy. Prompted, she will say or do what she has been taught but there is no sense of intention in the behavior when she does it. Annie says Goodbye Tahirih, when mom tells her to say it but I doubt that she would say this spontaneously even if mom prompted her daily for years on end. I get down and take Annie's hands and smile and say, Goodbye Annie! We had fun today. Come back next week! Annie's hands are limp in mine and she looks past my ear.

And yet... sometimes I have seen a few glimmerings of a purposeful Annie before today. I have also heard reports that Annie can say amazingly mature things when she feels something strongly enough. Don't talk about autism she once scolded dad after he got off the phone from a conversation about autism. This might be dangerous, she said after climbing up high on a play structure, which, with her poor balance skills, it was. Good-morning Kitty! Nice to see you! she said with pleasure once after spotting a kitty in a neighbor's window.

Do you want to be done? I will ask sometimes when Annie flops back on the floor in the middle of a game. I don't know if her behavior is communicating lack of interest or not. You want to do more, Annie will whisper, reversing her pronouns but telling me not to put the toys away yet. Let's play more then! I say happily as I get this tiny indication that she wants to continue our game. Having heard the stories and seen the little indicators that Annie has some real thoughts, I have been waiting.

I believe that Annie raced through therapy drills because the matching skills and language skills were not Annie's real communication hurdle. Her difficulty was and is with self-generated, intentional communication. Her difficulty is with self-generated, intentional behavior of any kind. Most the time Annie is caught up in a series of environmentally cued behavioral loops and the therapy drills just become other loops for Annie. My games, intended to elicit social interest and social motivation don't work as well as I wish for Annie either. Often, I think she was just doing what I tell or show her because the game is a predictable pattern and she gets caught in my loop weather she likes it or not. Annie does not feel like she is playing with me at all. Annie needs intense emotions in order to help her overcome a kind of profound intentional inertia that plagues her. Usually, it is hard to interpret what Annie really wants, thinks, feels and I have to watch for any weak behavioral indication...... but not today. Today, the Monster, Monster Game provided just the right amount of emotional energy and Annie was as easy to read as any other child playing a joyful game. The feeling of delight animated Annie and suddenly, there she was. The real Annie. Hello Sweetheart, my heart sang.

Note: Kid Stories are often composite stories and are based upon many and not just one child.

Taking Stress Down a Notch

Here is a story I want to share because it highlights how important it is for parents of children with ASD to cultivate mental flexibility, emotional regulation (staying relaxed and happy) and to model these qualities of being for their child.

The mother of a child with Asperger Syndrome told me how she took the stress down a notch for herself and her son recently by deciding that she did not need to keep doing things the same stressful way day after day. Both she and her eight year old son are a little more focussed on the clock than she'd like or feels is healthy. Having a bit of a thing about time herself, she has clocks literally all over her small apartment. Time became more and more the source of anxiety for both her and her son each morning before school. He wanted to play in the morning and yet knew exactly what time it was at all times and how much time was left before he needed to leave for school. She reminded him frequently how much time was left (even though he was as aware of time as she). At school, being late was counted against a record of perfect attendance and her son wanted perfect attendance in the worst way so he worried about being tardy all morning while also trying to get in a little play time and the press of both needs made him very anxious. She did not want him late either and so she was also very anxious. They did not enjoy the morning most days.

One day her son asked if she would set the alarm clock for 5:30 am so that he would have time to play in the morning and still not be late for school. The stress of time was clearly on his mind. So, this mom went to school that day and got her son's Individual Education Plan changed such that a tardy would not be recorded on her son's attendance record. The possibility of a tardy was causing him too much anxiety, she explained. That night, she told him there was a change in the rules for him and he would not get a tardy as long as he came to school sometime each day--therefore, he was allowed to play each morning and get ready after he'd had some playtime. The next morning, she did not mention the time even once. She encouraged him to play until he was ready to get ready for school. She did not mention time any morning after that. They got up at the regular time and ate and played and got dressed. So far, her son has never been late to school. She is learning to stop worrying so much about time, herself. The mornings are much happier and the teacher noticed right away how much more relaxed her son was each day at school. If they are ever late because they are too busy playing, so be it.

Play like a Kid

Parents want their child to learn how to play. Then, they want their child to learn how to play with other children. This second accomplishment may be just a few skills away or it may be many skills and years away but, regardless, it is wise to remember that you are aiming in that direction.

Try to imagine what skills it will take for your child to play with another child. Then, little-by-little, help your child acquire each skill required.

Here is an example. At first, it is quite a challenge just to convince Darren to come and do any activity willingly with his mother. But over time, she prevailed. Mom had gradually convinced Darren to play more and more games with her and as I watched them play today, I realized that he has learned to play at least a dozen games. His favorite is puzzles.

Remember though, that we are aiming for Darren to not only play with Mom, but also to play with other kids--which he doesn't yet do. I could see how playing with other kids might be a challenge when Darren took a puzzle piece out of Mom's hand several times and she uttered nary a peep. She plays like a mature adult but in order to teach Darren the next skill (taking turns) she needs to play more like a kid. "Next time", I said, "don't let Darren take toys away from you." I explained the playing like a kid thing in a little more detail. She got the idea right away. They started another puzzle together and she said, "Darren, my turn first."

Answer Me a Question

Jamie only liked to ask questions if he already knew the answer. He liked to have a conversation this way: 1) He asked a question 2) his conversational partner answered the question "correctly" or 3) Jamie provided the "correct" answer.

I fell in with Jamie's plan very well the first day that I met him but when, on our second meeting, I heard all the same questions, I was less cooperative.

"Why are there fire detectors?" Jamie asked
"In case there is a fire." I answered on day one.
"Why are there fire detectors?" Jamie asked again on day two.
"Why are there fire detectors?" I asked back on day two.
"In case there is a fire." Jamie answered.

"Why is there a refrigerator?" Jamie asked on day one.
"To keep food cold" I answered on day one.
"Why is there a refrigerator? Jamie asked on day two.
"So that food does not spoil." I answered on day two.
"TO KEEP FOOD COLD!" Jamie corrected me, clearly a little agitated.
"Why do we want to keep the food cold?" I countered--not adhering to his three part plan.
"Why does the door close?" Jamie asked--ignoring my question entirely.
"The door opens and closes" I commented.
"WHY DOES THE DOOR CLOSE?." Jamie answered.
"I don't know" I replied.
"For just a little privacy, here!" Jamie scolded.

"Why are there lights?" Jamie asked next.
"I don't know, why are there lights?" I asked back.
"To make the room light." Jamie answered.

"Why is there a wall?" Jamie asked.
"I don't know how to answer that", I answered.
"Why am I smarter than you?" Jamie asked.

There are at least three possible explanations for Jamie's conversational gambit. But none of them occurred to his dismayed parents. They were beginning to feel tortured because he was insistent that they answer his questions and he had some favorites that he asked many times a day. I needed to assure them that he was not trying to upset them by asking these questions over and over. I explained that he asked the same questions over and over so that he could get a predictable response. That much was sure. The fact that he wanted to converse with them was evidence of his desire to interact with them I said. That was putting a good spin on this behavior but it was true, I think.

Predictability Seeking. That is explanation 1.

Language comprehension difficulty. That is explanation 2.
Kids with ASD are often unable to comprehend novel language so asking a question that is a real question opens the child up to confusion. It is not so hard for a child to ask a real question, and hear a novel answer, if parents show kids what they mean whenever there is any indication of confusion. "Let me show you." should be a very common phrase if you have a child with ASD.

Explanation 3 is that Jamie was just doing what others did all the time to him. Others asked him questions even if they clearly knew the answers.

"What color is that?"
"How many fish crackers are there?"
"What is that called"

"What does a cow say?"
"Where did we go this weekend?"

When kids with ASD are little and not talking much, parents often bombard them with performance questions like this. If the wrong answer is given, parents correct.

When kids with ASD are a little older and talking a lot, they bombard their parents with performance questions like this. If the wrong answer is given, they correct.

The moral of this story is:

1) Only ask real questions--only questions that your child can answer and you can't. E.g. "Do you want juice or milk?"

Don't ask performance questions. E.g. "What color is milk? (Don't ask this because you know the answer already).

2) Only answer real questions. Real questions are questions where your child needs some information and you have it.

Don't answer questions that your child already knows the answer to.

Find other ways to have a predictable social interaction--like singing a song together. It is perfectly alright to repeat the same words over and over in a song.

The End in the Beginning

• Regret of the past and fear of the future are the twin thieves that together rob you of the present.

David's Number World

When I met David, he had spent his school life exclusively in a special education classroom. He was in fifth grade and his school team decided that he should be integrated into a fifth grade classroom starting with math, his best subject. At that time, integration was a relatively new idea and it meant that a student would "belong" in a regular education class rather than being "excluded" for most the day. Everyone was talking about how this was different than mainstreaming and the idea was that students like David should have been integrated all along but due to the school team's past ignorance regarding what was now discussed as a human rights issue, David had to be gently introduced to the culture and demands of a regular education classroom until he could be fully integrated.

I was new to my career as a school Speech and Language Therapist and I had a hard time imagining how David would be happy in a regular education classroom all day no matter how gently he was introduced. I had never met anyone who lived in a more different reality than David. But, I was prudently quiet and uncertain anyway, about my opinions back then. I only commented on his communication and then, only when asked because I was baffled by everything about David including his manner of communication. I could say things that sounded good but I can honestly say that nothing that I contributed to his education program was the least bit relevant or helpful that year although he and I liked spending time together. On the other hand, David contributed hugely to my education.

David had friends but all his friends were numbers. He drew numbers and added faces to each so that each number was a personality. It was hard for David to eat lunch in the cafeteria, because every food was assigned a number and David added up the worth of his plate before eating. Peas might be assigned the number 48 and he had to count all the peas and add them up before eating them. This was hard enough but they rolled around and were hard to count. Numbers were a part of every aspect of David's life at school and at home. Every spot in his house had a number assigned and he made himself a route game everyday and went in order to every place on the route and did some activity, perhaps throwing a ball up in the air and catching it, and then went on to the next spot. David could, with enough encouragement, tell a little about his routine and he explained more and more to me as he discovered my genuine interest and enthusiasm for understanding his world. This was as opposed to screaming at me to go away when I first started "therapy" with him.

When David started going for an hour into the regular education class, he was quite nervous even though the fact that it was a math class was motivating. He would spend the morning in a kind of nervous, self-talk, anxiety-driven rant, saying things like "David, in fifth grade, you have to stay in your seat." "David, you can't get up and walk around the classroom in fifth grade." He paced and repeated the directions for being in fifth grade right up until he went and could only settle down to do other things after he had been to his math class.

David followed the well-rehearsed rules pretty well in fifth grade math. The only problem was, he did not get all the math problems correct in that class. Since David was doing all the fifth grade math accurately in the special education classroom, this was a mystery. David was not able to explain anything about his math errors. I asked but he simply looked at me and moved on to some topic that he understood like how many basket ball hoops were in the Gym--something I had not asked about but can remember to this day because David told me so often.

One day, in David's morning anxiety rant, he paced by and said something like "David, you get 54% in fifth grade." This was a mystery statement but since he talked math all day, it was easy to ignore. The next day, he brought back his paper, corrected, by the fifth grade math teacher and 54% Correct was written clearly at the top of the paper. The math errors were explained. David was planning each day, prior to his math class, a predetermined percent correct for that day's math assignment. He did enjoy a math challenge and this was the best math problem he could devise for himself.

David was my introduction to the question of what educational setting best suits a child with autism. I have met so many children since then and the answer is still not simple and it cannot be answered with a simple philosophy, no matter how noble. David deserved to have a better math education, I think, now in retrospect. Math was such a talent that I wish we could have provided him with more ways to shine and develop that talent. I wish he had had a speech therapist who understood how to help him develop better communication skills and now, years later, I have lots of ideas.

David was unique and being prepared with well-trained staff ready to meet his needs was difficult to accomplish. The unique nature of the student is the challenge in educational planning for children with autism. New special education staff will inevitably struggle to understand autism. Regular education staff may be even less prepared for a student like David and so the mix of best resources for each student needs to be made in part based upon what is available. The concept of integration was never fully realized with David, in my time with him and perhaps it never could have been.

The idea of integration was not entirely wrong headed, though. David never stayed for much of fifth grade beyond the math class as his behavior was so disruptive for less motivating subject matter. But, a year after David went into the regular education classroom for math instruction, David suddenly started to show an interest in other children his own age. He had never appeared to notice his peers before unless someone asked him a math question. But, in sixth grade he seemed to be making friends at his church Sunday School, his mother said. There were a small group of welcoming kids at the church. He knew their names and sat close to a couple of girls each week. They were girls from his math class in fifth grade.

There Is No Us

One summer, my friend, Jake, five years old, would interrupt me angrily from time to time to tell me that"There is no us!" I did not know what he was talking about for the longest time. He tried to make his meaning more clear when he said "There is no we!" after I said we were going to take pictures one day. "OK" I said, "I will take a picture and then you will take a picture and then mommy will take a picture and then we will ask Jean to take a picture of all of us." Jake was interested in taking pictures so he just mumbled that there was no "us". I thought that he was just being literal about how many people could really hold a camera and take a picture. But that was not his point, I realized, when he corrected me about my use of "us".

That day, as we were taking pictures, he looked at our back door and said "Exit is going outside" so his mom explained that Jake was trying to understand why the word "Exit" was above some doors and not above others, and then I suddenly had a moment of insight about the us/we thing. I tried my new theory. "Jake" I said, "I will take a picture of you and mom together for your grandma and grandpa and you can give the picture to them." Sure enough, Jake said, "There is no them."

Jake was confused by the pronouns "us, we, them" because these pronouns referred to different sets of people all the time. How could "we" refer to him and mom and I one moment and to his mom and I and Jake the next? He wanted to make a rule to banish these words altogether--just as he had, some months earlier wanted to be the one who decided what new words meant and get others to adopt any word that he made up. He about drove his parents crazy with that phase.

I was amazed at Jake's specific awareness of what aspects of language were confusing him. He understood that it was the pronouns that made the sentence confusing. Understanding the meaning of pronouns requires some social awareness that eluded Jake much of the time. This pronoun difficulty is a common problem for children with Autism Spectrum Disorders. But I had never met a child who could pinpoint that pronouns were confusing.

We made a book that day in which I took pictures of all the combinations of people I could with Jake and wrote under each one something like "In this picture, we means Jake and mommy and Tahirh" or "In this picture we means just Mommy and Jake" "We means different people at different times." Jake argued with me the whole time I was making that book but he stopped arguing about the pronouns after that day and he used these pronouns correctly.

It was interesting that over that summer, Jake became much more imaginative and he started to pretend wild and amazing things in his play. All through the summer he kept checking on what was "pretend" and what was "real" and then making up more outrageous pretend situations where he was in charge of more aspects of the world. There were themes in his play of questioning who was in charge of everything--from who was in charge of deciding on the meaning of words to who was in charge of going to Heaven. Sometimes Jake was in charge of who got into Heaven and sometimes he pronounced that God was in charge.

I felt at times like I was witness to a genius child who was able to hone in all the most puzzling aspect of language and life. At times, Jake was stuck on some almost meaningless (in my mind) distinction or angry about some social hierarchy that was not negotiable (like who got to be the teacher) and I wanted to shake him out of his endless questioning. But many times, when I thought about what he was actually saying, I was in awe.