Like finding the owner's manual under the bed

Our younger son, Yonah, has some sensory and information processing issues.  By this I mean that he doesn't always process information in the same way as most of the world.  He is making great progress in this respect, but we still sometimes find ourselves speaking to him... only to find him unreceptive because he is busy broadcasting his own urgent distress signals for our attention.

Example:  Yonah wants a glass of chocolate milk.  Right now!  Right this very second!!!  His thirst for chocolate milk is so great that he can't imagine a world without this cold, refreshing beverage. And for all he knows, he is the only person in the world not enjoying chocolate milk at that moment.

Even as Zahava or I tell him that, yes, we would be glad to pour him some 'choco' he will continue to ask with an ever greater sense of urgency.  He observes us taking out the milk and the glass and the chocolate powder, but there is still somehow enough uncertainty about the end result in his mind that he can't bring himself to stop asking (demanding, by this point).

This is but one small example of something to which we are actually saying 'yes'.  So you can probably imagine what it's like when we have to pretend to be responsible parents and say 'no'.  Even if Yonah understands on some level that his request is unreasonable (e.g. for salami or chewing gum... or both!... for breakfast), once he has asked for it and imagined how wonderful it would be to get it... he can't seem to back away from the idea.

Enter my brilliant wife.

One of the professional staff involved with Yonah's gan suggested that part of the problem might stem from his inability to see anyone or anything else in the situation once he has asked for something.  He is a very bright little boy and is extremely eager for approval and reassurance.  So, she suggested that Zahava make a bunch of exaggerated drawings of faces showing happiness, anger, sadness, disappointment, etc., so that when Yonah begins revving himself up we would be able to draw his attention to the way we were feeling by making him look at the appropriate drawing.

Zahava took it one step further.  She figured that if a drawing of a face was good, then a real face would be better.

The next time Yonah went on one of his chocolate milk jags (after already having drunk his allotment for the afternoon), she took his chin gently in her hands and made him look directly into her face... a face which she had made into an exaggerated scowl of disapproval. 

She asked him, "Yonah, what face does Ima have on?", to which he answered, "An angry face".  That seemed to break the spell because he simply shrugged and asked if he could go watch a movie... the chocolate milk apparently all but forgotten.

The way she described the event to me later was as though she had suddenly found the owner's manual for the kid while straightening up his room.  She was that elated!

This morning while I was making the coffee and starting to put out breakfast for Yonah, he walked over to one of the 'out of bounds' cupboards (where the treats are locked away) and began demanding Bisli (a horrible salty-onion flavored crunchy snack that Israeli kids love only slightly less than the old standby; peanut flavored Bamba.*) in a very loud voice.

I gently explained that Bisli was not a breakfast food (I'm actually not sure it qualifies as any kind of food!), and that I wanted him to have Cheerios instead.  He continued tugging at the cabinet handle and demanding Bisli with the familiar increasing urgency.  No matter how I tried to divert him towards Cheerios (a cereal he truly loves), he could not tear his attention from the salty snack hiding behind door number one.

I was running late and was sorely tempted to give in... but I could just imagine the look on Zahava's face when she came back from her morning walk if she found Yonah eating Bisli for breakfast.  In other words, Daddy Syndrome writ large!  No husband willingly sets himself up for that kind of ridicule!

Suddenly I remembered the revelation Zahava had shared with me and decided I had nothing to lose by test driving her method.  So I got down on one knee... gently cradled Yonah's soft chin in my hand and directed his face towards my own (and away from the cabinet containing the Bisli).  I put on a very sad expression and asked him "What kind of face is Abba wearing?".

Almost as though a spell had been broken, his eyes cleared of their Bisli-lust and he calmly said "A sad face.  Abba is wearing a sad face."

I hid my surprise and continued, "And what does a sad face mean?"

Without hesitating he responded "It means I'm having Cheerios for breakfast".

I swear I kissed that little boy's happy face in so many places that I'm surprised he still has any skin left.  It was so wonderful to find a perfectly rational little four year old hiding underneath that veneer of unchecked wants and needs. 

I couldn't help thinking back to the way Zahava sounded when she first told me about her success.  It was, indeed, a lot like finding Yonah's operator's manual.

Look, I have no illusions that we still have a long road ahead of us in terms of helping Yonah catch up with his peers and then make his way in a world full of people who don't have to contend with the sensory and processing issues that he does. 

But this small victory was so satisfying I can barely describe it here.  It was not a victory of us over Yonah... but rather a victory whereby we and Yonah were suddenly (miraculously!) on the same side, facing... and overcoming... new challenges together.

More Info on these horrid snack foods Here.