Label Junkies: University Edition

This week I'm taking a break from interventions to ponder another lofty subject - accommodation.

Law.com reports: Princeton Student Sues Under ADA for Refusal of Extra Time to Take Exams. The learning disabilities at hand read like a "best of" edition of The Mislabeled Child:

• Mixed-Receptive-Expressive Language Disorder, which limits her ability to comprehend language, express language or recall material.

• Disorder of Written Expression, which leaves her ability to communicate in writing below the level expected based on age, intelligence or life experiences. When she writes, she has to repeatedly re-check what she has composed.

• Developmental Coordination Disorder, which leaves her ability to spell, punctuate and form sentences below the level expected based on age, intelligence or life experiences. She needs to read material several times over, isolate key words and highlight them so she can locate them again. Also under this disorder, her visual-motor processing skills are in the sixth percentile, "far below the average person, let alone the typical Princeton University student." She also suffers eye strain when taking tests and needs periodic breaks because of the way she reads passages over and over.

• Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, which limits her ability to focus. When reading, any distraction requires her to go back to the beginning of the passage.

It appears that, in a policy shift, Princeton's Office of Disabilities gaveth and then tooketh away:

Metcalf-Leggette learned of her diagnoses in 2003. Later, at the private school she attended, she received a 100 percent time extension for exams; a 100 percent extension on the SAT; and a 200 percent extension on the ACT.

Her older brother, David, who also had learning disabilities, graduated from Princeton University in 2008 and was given 100 percent extended time for exams while there. Metcalf-Leggette says she was told his extended time was approved by the predecessor of Eve Tominey, the director of Princeton's Office of Disability Services. Tominey left the extended time accommodation in place for David Metcalf "as a courtesy," the plaintiff says in her suit.

On the issue of accomodation, I hate to be wishy washy, but I can't help but see both sides.

First, the rights of the learning disabled must be weighed against the rights of the nondisabled. Educational institutions should attempt to level the playing field without giving the learning disabled an unfair advantage. How to accomplish this, I'm not sure. I'll reserve judgement on this one since there is so much I don't know.

Second, the rights of haves must be weighed against the have nots. In many places, it costs thousands of dollars to obtain a diagnosis by a neuropsychologist. So what about those who have a learning disability who can't afford to get a diagnosis (or whose parents don't know to pursue one)? The current system rewards the haves.

Third, the slope is slippery when you consider extra exam time for ADD/ADHD. Where do you draw the line?

And last, on a personal note, I feel emotionally invested in appreciation for individual learning style. Obviously, because my life is touched by it. Take history, for example. Can't schools test a pupil's command of the subject matter without making it an exercise in speedwriting? Can't teachers in grammar school slow down and appreciate that not all children can follow rapid pace multi-step commands? I worry about these things!

I will close with some choice comments on the lawsuit, via the Blackbook Legal Blog. First, an impassioned defense of accomodation:

Do some folks take advantage of the system? Sure. But the system is there to help those who really have a serious need and just require a bit of leveling the playing field to demonstrate they have the same knowledge as their non-disabled counterparts. If not for accommodations and technology I would still be a college fail out, instead of having 3 degrees with honors.

All I ask is a fair chance to show that despite my disabilities, I still know the law, and I can still practice the law. I know my limitations, I know my weaknesses, and I am not asking for anyone to feel sorry for me or give me an advantage over anyone else. All I ask for is the use of the technology I need and the time to use it, then let me rise or fall on my own. My grades, the vast majority of which were earned un-accommodated and my getting to within 11 points of passing the bar exam in half the given time show I know the law, I just need a bit of extra time to show I can write the law in a readable manner.

And one commenter makes light of the label junkie-ness:

I was always a bit suspicious of these claims (I must admit that when I read the list of conditions the plaintiff was claiming it seemed like something from the Onion, I was expected to see "intelligence deficit disorder"). Even assuming they are 100% legitimate, I thought a fair compromise would be to allow the student to take the tests untimed but to make clear that these students could not receive a class rank without taking the tests under the same conditions as everyone else.

I ressemble that remark.

Still recovering...

...from a triptophan hangover...

Gobble, gobble. Best wishes to you and yours.

Life is a Highway: Part I

This is the second installment in a series of posts on interventions. Last week, I explored a speech therapy exercise that Brad has tried. This week, I muse about something we haven't tried. This installment is divided into two parts.

* * *

"[I]t is remarkable that an intervention that is easily defined and implemented can have important lasting benefits at least to the end of middle school for all students."

To what is the quote referring? Floortime? Occupational therapy? Behaviorial therapy? Diet? A supplement?

Answer: None of the above.

The excerpt is referring to an intervention that is elegant in its simplicity: classroom size. Science Daily reports:

Small classes in early grades improve test scores in later grades for students of all achievement levels, but low achievers get an extra boost. That's the finding of a study on the long-term effects of class size in the November issue of the American Journal of Education.

The study followed 11,000 students and found that:

...small classes—13 to 17 students—are most effective when they are consistent from kindergarten through third grade. Students in consistently small early classes had substantially higher test scores in grades four through eight than students who had been in larger classes. Students at all achievement levels benefited, but low achievers showed stronger benefits in reading and science.

Which is interesting because at least one noted blogger has hypothesized that "sensory processing disorders are probably among the most common reasons children underachieve in school."

Which is also interesting because my school district is amidst a budget crisis and a school crowding problem. The town I live in is having an override vote in December to fund some needed school repairs. If it doesn't pass, the children from the sick building may be forced to fan out into the already crowded grammar schools.

While I can't control how my town spends its money, I can control how I spend mine. Which is to say, I can send Brad to private school, if he can get over the admissions hump and can function without an aid.

I may look back at this very idea as crazy talk, but for now, it's something I'm at the very least considering down the road. Not for preschool, but for K-5 or K-8, when classroom size makes a preciptious jump in the public school setting. Private school offers small classroom size and appreciation of individual learning styles, and some "typical" private schools offer special ed-type services, including services for language and social pragmatics.

That having been said, my husband and I are both public school graduates and believers in the public school system. For most.

Life is a Highway: Part II

Education is a series of roadways. A metaphor. Indulge me.

Public school is a freeway, heavily trafficked and, at times, congested. There are several lanes, each with posted speeds. Drive too fast or too slow, and you're violating the law, which is strictly enforced by the police. The good news is that if you run out of gas or need help, highway patrol is there to assist. And if you need to drive in the slow lane, that option is available too. If you are at least a moderately fast car, the freeway is the best way to get to your destination.

Private school is a quiet country road. You can drive at your own pace; there is no minimum speed. You can drive fast on some stretches of the road, and slow on others. And when you drive slow on the country road, they don't call it "the slow lane." The problem is, if you need help or break down, you're on your own. There's no highway patrol, no one to assist. And on certain country roads, they won't even let you on the on-ramp unless your driving proficiency is at a minimum.

Homeschool is a parking lot. You can learn to drive expertly there, with zero risk of danger and no pressure to drive fast or slow. But you don't get to take in much by way of scenery, and you don't learn how to navigate when there are other cars on the road.

Syllogism-ism: Part I

As I blogged last week, lately I have been concerned about Brad's ability to make those higher order connections. Recall Brad's speech evaluation over the summer. I was a bit - shall we say - prickly in the immediate wake of the debrief with the speech language pathologist. As I blogged, she told me that Brad was rigid and lacked imagination.

So I was reactionary. That's my M.O. when some one tells me something I don't want to hear. But to give me credit, over time, I was able to be objective about the evaluation and appreciate what she was trying to tell me; my reactionary phase was short-lived. Herein lies what separates a denialist from a realist.

She also told me something I hadn't previously considered: he's impaired in verbal reasoning.

"What???" I asked. No, Brad has a communication impairment but his ability to reason is perfectly in tact, I thought. Reasoning and language are totally separate areas of the brain. I read that somewhere. He has a language impairment. And a sensory issue. And a social issue. And poor working memory. But reasoning is intact. It's that simple, I reassured myself.

I hate it when I'm wrong.

After originally dismissing the SLP, I have come to believe that she is correct: Brad does have an impairment in verbal reasoning. What that means (disorder versus delay) and how it will play out, I'm not sure. But that he has an impairment is pretty obvious now that it's been brought to my attention.

Syllogism-ism: Part II

Cue the syllogisms.

To "treat" his impairment in verbal reasoning, Brad's private speech language pathologist engages Brad using printouts like the one pictured above.

It starts with W questions, who, where and what.



Then it moves to "what happened".



And then what I call the syllogism prompt: "what will we do?"

Every week, they work on a new "story" that follows this basic interactive format. The column on the left (the W questions and the syllogism prompt) does not change. The SLP leaves me a printout so I can reinforce and practice in between sessions.

Goals, by their nature, should be something to strive for, not something already mastered, and that's why I really like this intervention. Currently, Brad doesn't really get it. He can't deduce, or problem solve yet. That last "what will we do?" question consistently trips him up. But he even though he can't formulate deductive reasoning, I think he is starting to comprehend these little syllogisms, perhaps in a passive way. But comprehension isn't for nothing. Little by little, I like to think that this type of intervention does exercise those tenuous "higher order" synapses, perhaps keeping them from dying off or causing them to flourish.

I will close with a proof point: I set the table the other day and forgot to set cups with the kids' drinks. Brad: "Mommy, you made a mistake!" (Ha! And it won't be the first, Brad.) Now that's deductive reasoning.

Added: The printouts pictured above were created with BoardMaker.

"Pruning"

When it comes to interventions, much is written about "rewiring" the brain - the theory (and, for some, hope) that intensive interventions can cause an atypical child to be more neurologically typical. Is rewiring possible? I don't think anyone knows for certain.

But it is well settled that you can work with the wires you already have. During childhood, the brain undergoes a pruning process, during which underused neurons and synapses simply die off. This is perhaps the best argument for early diagnosis and early intervention. With early intervention, perhaps we can prevent some of those tenuous synapses from dying off, and the sooner we start, the better the chance for a positive outcome.

With that in mind, in the coming weeks, I will blog about interventions that we have tried. In the upper right, I indicate that we use "moderate interventions." I'm going to try to give that vague statement a little more shape, speaking of course from a parenting/anecdotal POV.

First, a prefatory note about goals. Because, of course, as any special needs mom or dad with an IEP knows, you need to start with goals. About one year and nine months ago, if you had asked me about my goals for Brad, I might have replied that there is only one and that it is that he acquire speech. Flash forward about six months later, I started thinking more about social pragmatics and empathy. I added warmth and humor to the list of goals for Brad. Today, on a high level, my goals for Brad have shifted to intellectual capacity, i.e. making those higher order connections and doing whatever we can today to avoid intellectual disability down the road. Not that communication and warmth and humor aren't goals for Brad - they most certainly are. But I no longer fear that Brad won't acquire speech or develop empathy.

Happy Halloweenie!

We vax.

As flu season approaches, I feel compelled to write: we vax.

As in, we fully vaccinate our children, including Brad who is mildly autistic and Jeremy who is allergic to egg.

On the Brad front, there is no doubt in my mind that vaccines don't cause autism. I fear the fallout of widespread vaccine rejection.

On the Jeremy front, he can have egg-based vaccines administered at an allergy clinic. They keep him for observation afterward, and can administer anti-histimine, steroids or epi-pen if needed. For the record, Jeremy is five, has received several egg-based vaccines and has never had an anaphalactic reaction to a vaccine. (He did have an anaphalactic reaction when eating eggs, scrambled eggs, undiluted, at age one.)

Be safe, everyone.

Added: An Epidemic of Fear [via Wired]

A beautiful memory.

And now for something completely different.


Free live streaming by Ustream

This week only, witness the genius that is Stephen Wiltshire, an autistic savant. It's a live stream of him drawing a cityscape of New York for CBSNews. He's drawing it entirely from memory after one helicopter ride above the city. The Early Show is featuring him this week. Click here for status updates, e.g., when he is drawing and for how long.

Enjoy.

The best things in life are free.

Recently, I asked Brad's occupational therapist for her thoughts on treatment, short-term and long-term. Our ration of insurance-approved visits will be up in February 2010.

Short term, she's going to continue strength building, grasping exercises, fine motor exercises and the play therapy (Floortime-ish).

For the long-term, when our insurance benefit is up, her sage advice: "Play outside a lot, and have him go on a lot of playdates."

"No, really," I said.

"Really," she said.

"What about occupational therapy? Or physical therapy? Services???" I stammered. "He must need something. Look at him. He still has terrible postural stability."

"Waste of time and money," she replied. "You're buckling him up, and confining him in a car, to drive him somewhere so that he can exercise. Plus, a one-on-one service hour deprives him of play with his peers."

At this stage, I can't say whether Brad's OT is right or wrong, but her common sense advice does resonate with me. Compare and contrast to the advice of Brad's private speech language pathologist (who happens to be quite thorough). Brad's SLP told me Brad's IEP is wholly inadequate and that he needs more service hours at school. Turns out, many children in my school district with a diagnosis do get more service hours in an ABA based program - even the borderline are-they-or-aren't-they PDD kids. Brad's SLP relayed this recommendation to me over the summer, and I have ignored her advice for the very reason Brad's OT cited: more one on one service time at school deprives of playdates and freeplay with Jeremy, which I think is valuable, socially - more valuable than being holed up in a classroom.

So for the time being, I'm inclined to place more stock in the common sense approach of Brad's OT than his SLP. Am I right or wrong? Only time will tell.

Prevalence of Prevalence Statistics

In the wake of the recently published autism prevalence statistics, comes Behind the Autism Statistics, by the producer of Autistic-Like: Graham's Story. Behind the Autism Statistics is an insightful editorial, and I could relate to chunks of it from a parenting perspective, particularly being pushed into ABA and feeling as though it were a bad fit.

What struck me as I was reading it was this little gem:

A central goal of the SPD Foundation is to ensure that the disorder [sensory processing disorder], now estimated to affect as many as 1 in 20 children, is included in the DSM-V, which would turn it into an official diagnosis that would come with much-needed help.

Irony alert! An editorial that criticizes the establishment for distorting autism prevalence, suggests that the SPD net may be cast at 1 in 20.

From a parenting perspective, I've arrived at a place where I am fully at peace with the blurriness of the lines. I believe that "autistic-like" SPD is distinguishable from autism, if at all, in degree-only. And degree is not for nothing. Degree can be the difference between talking and not talking, and dependence and independence. I don't minimize the significance of degree. I just question the need for a new, potentially ill-defined label.

If treatment is the issue, and I share this concern, then why not lobby to reform the prescription for treatment of autism?

Geek + Geek = ?

While mainstream media is in a tizzy about reports of an increase in the rate of autism, I've been pondering something related, topical and near and dear to my heart: Geek Syndrome.

According to a recent study, autism does not appear to correlate to geeks procreating with other geeks, as previously hypothesized by Wired Magazine:

One provocative hypothesis that might account for the rise of spectrum disorders in technically adept communities like Silicon Valley, some geneticists speculate, is an increase in assortative mating. Superficially, assortative mating is the blond gentleman who prefers blondes; the hyperverbal intellectual who meets her soul mate in the therapist's waiting room. There are additional pressures and incentives for autistic people to find companionship - if they wish to do so - with someone who is also on the spectrum. Grandin writes, "Marriages work out best when two people with autism marry or when a person marries a handicapped or eccentric spouse.... They are attracted because their intellects work on a similar wavelength."

But hold the phone. The same study indicates that mothers in "highly technical" fields were 2.5 more likely to have geek spawn...er.... a child on the spectrum.

I look at Brad. I look at myself. Coincidence? I wonder.

TGIF.

[Via Left Brain/Right Brain]

Just Asking, Part I

What does PDD-NOS look like in an adult? Where are the support groups for PDD-NOS (support for those who have it and parenting support)?

I know what asperger's looks like in an adult. For starters, I worked with one once. Interesting story, but I won't get into that here. Also, there are plenty of media depictions of adults with asperger's. Look up asperger's support, and there are several centers throughout the region that I live in.

But PDD-NOS? Nothing. My hypothesis: an adult with PDD-NOS probably identifies as "autistic" as an adult. (Or typical. Or asperger's.) Which is true, because PDD-NOS is on the autistic spectrum. So perhaps an adult who was diagnosed with PDD-NOS as a child and whose diagnosis "sticks" will identify as autistic and seek out support through autism support networks. Likewise, there is little by way of parenting support specific to PDD-NOS.

Another hypothesis: "PDD-NOS" is a label so meaningless that no one - not even those who have it - want to use it.

Of course, there are a lot of autism support groups and resources for parents. But as I learned early on, and much to my chagrin, "if you've met one autistic person, you've met one autistic person." Finding that commonality is challenging. I'm sure parents of children from every corner of the spectrum can relate to that sentiment.

Just Asking, Part II

What about sensory processing disorder (SPD)? Where are the SPD adults and SPD support (for those who have it and parenting support)?

For starters, there is the SPD Foundation, incorporated in 2005. I'm not sure how high its profile is at this juncture, however.

As for support, I see two obstacles. First, SPD is not formally recognized as a diagnosis. Second, those who do diagnose it (mainly occupational therapists) haven't been doing it for long, relatively speaking. As noted above, the SPD Foundation incorporated in 2005, whereas autism support has been around for much longer. SPD support simply isn't evolved in part because it hasn't been around that long.

As for the lack of adults with SPD, perhaps that's in part due to the novelty of the diagnosis and in part to the affect of maturation on SPD. By the time adulthood sets in, perhaps the condition has lessened or the person has learned to adapt? Just guesses. In the next ten years or so, perhaps adults might start identifying as having sensory processing disorder? But as of today, that doesn't appear to be the case.

Added: As Kris points out, SPDLife is a resource dedicated exclusively to adults with SPD.

Asked and Answered

Now let's consider dyspraxia, which is often used interchangeably with developmental coordination disorder or DCD.

Send in the adults! Early on, I discovered this video "playlist", entitled "Dyspraxia and Me." Not kids. Adults. Yes, they exist!

See, in the UK the "dyspraxia" label has been around for quite some time. The medical community and the schools recognize it. DANDA, the Developmental Adult Neuro-Diversity Association, provides support and awareness. Troll Amazon UK for books on dyspraxia and you'll find thousands, literally. Unlike SPD in the US, the "dyspraxia" label in the UK is evolved and accepted.

Why do I care? As I have blogged, I believe that "recovery" exists for PDD-NOS. To me, this means that the child met the diagnostic criteria and then at some future point ceased to meet the diagnostic criteria. Often this is referred to as "becoming indistinguishable from one's peers."

But I don't believe that PDD-NOS or SPD or DCD ever goes away. Rather, I believe that symptom severity decreases and it manifests itself in a different manner. And that's what I try, most often in vein, to wrap my brain around. What's left after the diagnosis goes away? Perhaps the video stream is a glimpse? Perhaps not, but at least it's something.

Phoning it in: Google Edition

Hey all. This week, it's a filler post on blog stats. Here are my unscientific observations regarding my blog traffic, courtesy of Sitemeter:

• Traffic: 40-60 unique visitors per day, on average. I don't think sitemeter picks up mobile devices though. Atleast, I don't think it picks up my mobile.
  
  
• Locale: in the US, heavy concentrations from the east and west coasts, and smatterings from the midwest and Texas. Outside of US: primarily Canada, Australia and UK.
  
  
• Referrals: about half come my way by Google search (and Bing and Yahoo), and the other half via other blogs and bookmarks.
  
  
• Top Google searches (unscientific): "PDD NOS", "PDD NOS RECOVERY", "PDD NOS PROGNOSIS", "PDD NOS POTTY TRAINING", "ASD AND DCD", "SPD AND RECOVERY", "AUTISM AND RECOVERY", "ASD AND DSM-IV"

Back To School

I'm writing to report that there's not a whole lot to report. Which is good, I suppose.

We're back to four days a week at integrated pre-school ("integrated" meaning special needs and typical peers). As I have blogged, Brad is in a great program with a rich curriculum, including motor group and one-on-one speech. It wasn't all good news last year though. In last year's class, he had difficulty keeping up and tended to withdraw.

Over the summer, Brad had a good teacher, who REALLY REALLY understood Brad and appreciated him. (Well, technically, I think the summer program is camp, but it was at the same place.) Anyway, according to her, Brad came out of his shell during the course of the summer. Brad showed her that fullness of expression that we see around the house. She loved him. Well maybe she loves all of her students, but still, I was enjoying her Brad appreciation.

Anyway, out with the old and in with the new. His teacher for this year (September through May) has yet to bond with him on that level. But I'm hopeful they'll get there. And the class mix seems to be better for Brad, in terms of age and temperament and whatnot.

One thing new on the roster: they might add a twist to Brad's one-on-one speech pullouts. They suggested one-on-two, meaning one speech therapist for two children. To facilitate a friendship and administer therapy at the same time. Call me crazy, but I like that idea a lot.

Brad-Ism

"I've got a wedgie, mommy."

-Brad, informing me that his shirt tag was uncomfortably rubbing the nape of his neck.

I know this is what he was trying to convey because he gestured to the tag, not his underwear.

Brad has a point. The tag is a clothing-induced source of discomfort. And they say our kids have weak generalization skills.

And while we're on the topic, why isn't there a word for the uncomfortable sensation a tag creates? Maybe our children aren't language-impaired. Maybe our language is autism-impaired. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

TGIF.

Phoning It In: Back to School Edition

Back to school went well for Jeremy and Brad. Nothing remarkable to report, other than OMG Jeremy started kindie! *sniff* But that's off-topic.

Brad's first day of school (morning of) interview:



How was back to school for you and yours?

Insurance Update

We won our insurance appeal. It took five months and two levels of appeals, but we won. Brad will be starting occupational therapy again soon.

Guest Blog By DH

Readers and lurkers,
Just a quick note to let you know my father has been in the hospital for the last few weeks. He's had a heart attack, a gallbladder removed and a stroke, and is doing as well as can be expected. I'm writing to let you know I'm over capacity in the short-term. So if I haven't stopped by, that's what's up. I'm drained, physically and emotionally. Tapped out.

My husband is picking up the slack this week. Thanks DH.

* * *

I don't often encounter references to the autistic spectrum in what I read on the internet, mainly because I flock to blogs and news sites about things like fantasy hockey, sports memorabilia, and .....cough cough....pro wrestling (yes, I know it's fake).

One of my favorite stops when surfing the web is the twoplustwo forums, which relate to news, strategy, viewpoints and gossip about poker.

Among the threads I recently read was one questioning whether the 2008 World Series of Poker main event champion - a young man named Peter Eastgate - is autistic. It was an odd question, but as people pointed out not an entirely unconscionable one given how quiet, calm and focused Eastgate has come across on TV, particularly as compared to his generally brash and boorish counterparts. Also notable was how much he maintained his composure when he clinched his victory, literally barely reacting after becoming the youngest main event champ ever and winning millions of dollars in the process.

Much to my surprise and enjoyment, the question prompted quite a discussion, one by and among people about autism who didn't specifically come there with an autism agenda. Instead, it was just poker players and fans talking about autism like they would about health care, Hannah Montana, the economy, or porn. Sure, some of the familiar debates emerged, but it was interesting to read such a full range of reactions and viewpoints, complete with doses of hate, ignorance, confusion, compassion, curiosity, and humor.

Am I the only one who finds reading non-agenda-laden debates and discussions like these about autism (or other subjects for that matter) refreshing in a way? To me, in terms of autism, they're a more representative microcosm of what my son may encounter in the real world.

Oh well, enough rambling. Here's a link. Be forewarned - it meanders at times, but it's a fascinating read, particularly at the beginning and towards the end.

Phoning it in.

No time for any reflection this week, so I'll leave you with a video. TGIF!

Go sox!

Here, in New England, we are said to be stoic relative to others in, say, the midwest or the south. We don't feign pleasantries. We're not warm and welcoming to people we don't know. We keep to ourselves. As a general matter.

Unless you're wearing a Red Sox tee shirt, in which case puritanical stoicism gives way to two other Massachusetts traits: meatheaded-ness* and sports fanaticism. For the uninitiated, Massachusetts happens to be some sort of meathead mecca, for reasons I don't fully understand. Anyway if you're wearing a Red Sox tee shirt and it's the day of a game, perfect strangers have license to make remarks and engage you in conversation.

Which is fine, unless you have have a speech delay. I have blogged of my time as what I dub a "smile bully"; when Brad was 3 months old, I wouldn't leave him alone until he smiled. Well, what we have here are conversation bullies. People who won't be satisfied until they have elicited some sort of remark from Brad, like his favorite player or the anthem "go sox." Brad, of course, wants nothing to do with these well-intended people, understandably.

So I have resorted to taking the Red Sox shirts out of his rotation during game day. It's all I can do. Do you or yours ever get assaulted by conversation bullies?

*Patent-pending.

Impervious No More?

I have long speculated that Brad is slightly impervious to pain. He just doesn't seem to react to tactile input the way a typical child does.

Until now?

The litmus test I use: taking a bath.

There are certain near-universal truths about typical children. One such truth is that toddlers become upset if they get soap in their eyes, even if it's "No More Tears." Not Brad. Since he was 18 months old, I've waited for him to express upset when I rinse his hair. Nothing. Just smiles and laughter. Sometimes I know soap is in his eyes. I look at him suspiciously. Just smiles.

And now, finally, it's happened: every time we rinse, he cries. Not that that's a good thing! Of course, I don't like to see Brad upset. But I can't help but wonder if one of those elusive neurological synapses is finally connecting. By my limited anecdotal experience, this usually happens closer to 18 months. Brad is three and a half. But this is me, not complaining. Better late than never.