One Sunday we went on a mountain steam train adventure.
The Bean is currently fairly obsessed with trains with 'dirty wheels'. I'm still not 100% sure what that means but I know it has something to do with trains that aren't your regular passenger metro type train, steam trains have 'dirty wheels', the 'dirt train' (the cargo train that travels past our house a few times a day) has dirty wheels and most model trains also have 'dirty wheels'. When, a fortnight ago, he had a complete melt down about wanting a train with dirty wheels it took a few guesses and a couple of days of cajoling to figure the entire situation out.
And as his Asperger's has now got confirmation and diagnosis and applications for funding and assistance and intervention at countless government age ncies are set in motion. I'm seeing a pediatrician to simply help me complete some applications that she believes, and I quote, "you need a bloody PhD just to fill out the forms", I'm starting to get a little picture about how the Bean's brain works and why 'dirty wheel trains' can mean
Because there is a plan.
I will look at getting him some real pieces when he's less rough and tumble and more likely to look after a proper starter set or real model trains, when he's 8 or 9 or something. The track I've got is just a toy.
so much to him.
And tantrums, also from what I've read, are one of the most common symptoms of those diagnosed with Autism Spectrum disorders yet at times, are the most difficult to deal with. It's not just a throw down about wanting chocolate or no getting one's own way, although they certainly can be triggered by those things as well, but they seem to be much more illogical, to you or I, than any normal reason to crack it. The Bean's melt downs tend to happen more when he's tired, at the end of busy days, when he is obsessed with something and his focus has been interrupted or if plans have had to change and he wanted to do what was originally planned.
Fortunately, however, I can be a hard-arse, teaching teenagers has helped enormously in some regards, as I tend not to back down over the little things. As I'm also learning from my teenagers that may or may not be diagnosed with similar traits.
Although, I am learning to pick my battles. Checking myself with what's really important, helping him with things that used to frustrate me that he couldn't do alone, yet now I understand that he just needs to be guided and focused more often, I can't just say, "quick, go get dressed" then walk away. I can't rush him. I can't call out from the other room.
I need to sit with him on the floor to avoid shouting at him to hurry up.
I need to ask him to do things in stage, "jocks... (pause)... shorts... (pause)... t-shirt... (pause)... socks... (pause)... shoes..." He's not stupid or trying to frustrate me, he just needs my help. Otherwise, I'd walk in, running late for work as always, and find him naked, reading a book in only his socks. Generally, on inside out.
I was never going to use bribery as a parenting technique. It doesn't work from every parenting experts' opinion, except parents of ASD kids tend to use it to help with the melt downs. Melt downs, in my experience, so only in relation to The Bean, tend not to relate to wanting toys or lollies at the super market check out lane because he has never been bought those for bribery. He never gets treats like that anyway. I bribe the Jelly Bean with being allowed to watch the Dinosaur movie (Walking With Dinosaurs), How to Train Your Dragon or Playschool, Chuggington, Charlie and Lola/Cars or WALL-E, we can go to the park or library or beach, or we can't go to those places. I do threaten to take treats like these away if he misbehaves too much as I certainly don't reward bad behaviour. I try to reward good behaviour.
But the train with the dirty wheels had me completely beaten.
The melt downs were ongoing. They lasted on and off for a few days. He brought the subject up at every opportunity. And I'd worked out that he wanted trains like a family friend's of ours. These model trains however, are worth thousands of dollars and although I'd explained to The Bean that I didn't have that kind of money, I couldn't get it into his head that we simply couldn't afford such a train track. He continued to melt down for days and they were tiring and heart breaking for us both.
I felt a bribe-ish type of compromise was all I could think of to diminish the pain.
I looked on ebay and searched used goods sites, I found there were some more affordable options, starter sets and so on, but still felt as though a proper model track was a bit too fragile for my nearing five year old. I did find one, it wasn't a proper model set, it wasn't metal and fragile. It is plasticky and runs on batteries, which does not appeal to my conservational nature, but I thought the wheels looked dirty enough.
I told him he could have it for his birthday. He stopped melting down. Immediately. He accepted that graciously and hasn't nagged me to have it since.
Because there is a plan.
I even showed him the box. He saw it and didn't ask to have it now. He knew it was for his birthday. Which isn't until February. And I was so bloody proud of him.
He's cool, honey bunny.
And I began to understand that the melt downs were about the prospect of never having a train track.
About never being allowed to have trains and remotes and stations and little people and little cars and trees and street lights. The track that I've gotten him for now has none of these things.
About the very real dream of dirty wheel trains never being realised.
But it has dirty wheels and that makes my Jelly Bean happy.
Things The Bean has said:
1. Late one Sunday night...
Me: You're so tired, you doing these ones
*I slow blink at him*
TB: That's not tired, that's just doing thinking.
2. After a bath.
Me: Can you please put your clothes in the basket?
*TB jumps up and down, naked, making faces in the bathroom mirror*
TB I don't have 100 hands.
3. At his Ninna and Papa's house - Part 1.
Me: Can you please put these toys away so we can get going?
*TB walks to the front door*
TB: I'm just a bit busy looking at the world right now.
4.
TB: This dragon doesn't breathe fire, he squirts water. Fire makes him cough.
5.
TB: I've got a very bad headache in my tummy.
6. An example of a daily argument 1 - at the dinner table.
Me: Close your mouth when you're eating.
TB: Dinosaurs eat like this. I'm a dinosaur. I need my mouth open.
7.
TB: Mama, feel my tummy. The noodles are in there saying "Surprise! Come down here!!"
Me: Who are they saying that to?
TB: That cupcake over there.
8.
Me: I love you so much.
TB: I love you so much.
*I grab his cheeks*
Me: I think I'm just going to eat you up. I'm gonna eat your cheeks and your ears and your arms and all of your pieces.
TB: Noooooooooo! I want to stay OUT of your tummy.
9. An example of a daily argument 2 - on the way to kinder/work.
TB: Mama, you've gone the wrong way.
Me: No it's just a different way.
TB: Ok, it's a different way, but if you want to go the right way then you need to start again and go over the bridge.
10. At his Ninna and Papa's house - Part 2.
TB: Fart is a dangerous word.
N: Why?
TB: It's an 'F' word.
11.
TB: Mama, one ichthyosaur has been eaten. This dragon-osaur went like this...
12. To the tune of 'Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer'.
TB: Then one froggy Christmas eve, the dinosaurs came to say... Look at this mass-ive brachiosaurus...
13. After one of those days.
TB: Mama, today is a rubbish day.
14.
TB: Butterflies are better aren't they?
Me: Yeah, they're pretty cool.
TB: And because they eat butter. They slice it with their wings.
15.
TB: Mangoes are my favorite vegetable.
Me: They're a fruit, babe, but they're my favourite fruit, too. I though bananas were your favourite, though? Do you like mangoes even more than bananas?
TB: I like them twenty metres more than bananas!
16. As susceptible to advertising as the rest of us.
TB: Mama, guess what?
Me: What?
TB: I heard someone say milkshake!
Me (a little sarcastically): Wow, really?
TB: Can I have a milkshake?
17. Watching 'Walking with Dinosaurs'
Me: Do you still want to be a paleontologist when you grow up?
TB: No.
Me: You changed your mind?
TB: Yeah, I want to drive Puffing Billy.
18. Saying good night.
Me *squishing him goodnight*: I love you so much I could squash your head.
TB: Mama, you're weird.
