When little angels grow little horns

March 6, 2011

When asked to face the realization that there are some things that Nathan may never be able to do, I’ve always tried to come up with a way to put a positive spin on it.

If Nathan is never able to talk, he will also never tell me a lie.
If he is never able to walk, he will never run away from home.
If he never is able to feed himself, it’s my fault if he’s ever overweight.

It may not be comforting for some, but for me it helps maintain “the perfect child” image most parents have of their kids. It’s almost ironic that as skills grow, so do the opportunities for other bad things to happen.

For all the parents that joke for the first two years of a child’s life they wanted him/her to talk, now they can’t shut him/her up, or they couldn’t wait for the day he/she could walk, and now they can’t keep up. As Nathan progresses with his walker it’s interesting to see what sparks his interest and what really gets him moving. It’s often unpredictable to us, but for him it seems to make perfect sense.

This week he’s spent more time in his walker at home. Early in the week, he was on the floor waving his arms in the air, letting us know he wanted up. He didn’t have his orthotics on, and I didn’t think he’d wait while I hunted them down, strapped them on as he wanted up NOW! I grabbed his regular shoes, put them on his feet, picked him up and put him in the walker.

I didn’t expect him to try to move around too much as without his orthotics it makes the movement of his ankles harder and work muscles that normally don’t have the flexibility to move on their own. Right away his little feet started churning: left, right, left, right, left, right. They were going faster than they usually moved with his AFOs on, but each step was weaker and barely moving him forward. He didn’t seem to care, in his mind he was still moving forward.

I had moved one pile in our living room from one corner to the other (sadly enough, I called this productive) clearing a space where I may be able to work downstairs while he’s playing or watching TV. The new location was fascinating to him and items he ignored before were a new mess to explore.

Reaching the limits as far into the pile as he could go, I turned him around and he headed in the opposite direction. All the way across the room and into the kitchen he headed, perfectly navigating around the trash can and into a place he usually only sees Mom or Dad. He went all along side the countertop, seeing if there was anything he could reach, grab, pull off, or make a mess out of. If anything fully made it to his grasp, the giggle of success always gave him away.

When he had enough of that, he headed towards the (closed) door to the basement. It had been a while since he had been down there, and if he was exploring “forbidden areas” he thought, why not?! I took him out of the walker and downstairs and he giggled with victory again. This whole concept of going where he wants to go seemed to be sinking in.

On Friday, I went to pick him up from school. He and his class were already down on the first floor, in the makeshift library area. On multiple occasions I saw him glance my way, but he was careful not to get excited or let on that he knew I was there. His new helper on Fridays (yes, a college girl) grabbed his bag and coat and got him turned around facing me and the door.

Nathan looked at her, then at me and headed 180 degree in the opposite direction. She didn’t think he did it on purpose and helped steer him back towards home. On cue, he giggled turned around again, looking at her as if to say, “Let’s hide from Dad. We can go this way.” He headed for another set of doors waiting for someone to chase after him. I decided to wait it out and see what he would do.

For all those times he’s heard Annette and I say, “Okay, I’m leaving. You better hurry up,” this time he was the one heading for the door. The distance grew: 15, 20, 25 feet away. When he got within 5 feet of the door, the giggling started again. He made it to the door and tried to bulldoze it open with no luck. Some of the teachers and aides got a kick out of it, and said almost with amazement, “He’s doing it on purpose!” One commented that she’d never seen him move so far, so fast inside. As much as I respect the psychological report we had two months ago, he was acting like a typical 5 year old.

It makes any special-need parent smile to see their child doing something “normal.” To have that same activity bring a smile to the child's face is even more special. With the skills growth, come more responsibility at home. Making sure basement doors stay closed, knives aren’t left on the countertop, the childproofing had begun. It’s great to see Nathan’s energy back.

Hopefully the weather will break soon and we can play more outside. Nathan’s got some shoes he wants to break in and he wants to get out and play. Soon, there may be puddles to splash in and mud pies that end up in his hair and various other body parts. At least for a little while, I'll have to let him do it. To see Nathan able to be a kid and do what little boys do, is worth a whole lot of extra baths.

Back to previous postings