More on Casey

We’re over the moon about Casey, the Wonder Dog.  She really is just a fantastic addition to our family.   We always knew we’d have a family dog, but we were waiting for the ‘right time’.  When Mark was serving in Iraq, I was overwhelmingly pregnant with Will, Ben was a toddler not walking or even close, and we had just moved from our big yard house to a teeny yard house–that time–was *not* the right time.  Thank God for Aunt Patty and Uncle Jim who adopted our first pet, Max.  Here they all are visiting us on their spring break last week: 

Having Max stay with us confirmed how ready we were for another pet.  There’s so much to be gained in the way of learning and enrichment for the kids–taking care of another being, responsibility, respect, loyalty.  Max was a puppy when we adopted him from the shelter.  Training him was a lot of work.  We knew we didn’t have the kind of time needed to train a puppy this time around.  We had agreed to get an older dog, but not too old.  We wanted an active dog that would run and play, but would not have to pee every 10 minutes nor chew things that would make us unhappy.

I had also been doing some research on therapy dogs for children with autism.  It’s probably not much of a surprise to dog lovers, but early “research” is showing that there are more than physical needs fulfilled through interaction with a trained therapy pet.   This study is looking specifically at development of social interaction with the help of animals.

Solomon hypothesizes that interactions with well-trained therapy dogs—which are simple, predictable and very rewarding social partners—help autistic children practice social interaction and fill gaps in social behaviors that didn’t develop earlier in childhood. In the future, she hopes to study the results of adding animal therapy to existing clinical programs for people with autism.

“Dogs could be like a catalyst in a chemical reaction,” she said.

I liked that the article spoke in terms of remediation, a la RDI.   Going back for a ‘do-over’ is a simple way to think about it.  Could a dog help in our RDI efforts with Ben?  Who couldn’t use a catalyst?

Enter Casey.  The craisglist post proclaimed her “the poster child for the perfect family pet”.  After 3 days with her, we really cannot argue that claim.   We’ve witnessed great affection and “private” moments between both boys and Casey that are worth any cost of having her.  Already.  How cool is that?

Here are some photos of the boys doing some training work with Casey.

“Casey, come!”“Sit.”“Lie down.”

And then there’s Will’s technique…

“Casey, come and eat this yummy treat.”

“Lie down like me.”“Have another yummy treat.  Good girl.  She likes me!”

South Carolina Snow by way of California…

Aunt Mary sent a huge package from California.  There were plenty of cool toys within.  They were but a passing fancy stacked up next to the non-toy toy, of course.  I panicked at first when I saw the packing peanuts.  My first instinct was to not let one stray puff out of the box, close it up and hide it in the garage as quickly as possible, before anyone got any bright ideas.  Then Ben said “it’s like snow!”.  And I remembered that I, once upon a time, encouraged mess-making as a living back when I taught preschool.  So, I told my inner neat freak to take a hike, and we played in the snow!

In addition to the jumping, running, sliding, throwing, whooping and hollering, there were “snow plows”,

burying the baby,

and making snow angels, of course.

And then, we cleaned it all up.  Just like preschool.  La.

So, thanks Aunt Mary, for the California snow.

Oh, yes, and for the great toys, too. 

Baby loves her new bed.

Another non-toy toy

The boys recently located the guest room’s closet and the piles of suitcases within. They’ve been “going to the airport” for three days straight now. Will very much enjoys the packing and unpacking of things, including his brother and his-self. Ben mostly enjoys telling you that he’s going to the airport, then rolling the luggage down the hall, only to return 30 seconds later to let you know he’s come home. Mark is nearly insane with the repetition and will periodically refuse to play, offer suggestions on alternative scenarios, or pretend to sleep. This, of course, does nothing to sway the players. In fact, it might just intensify the need to have him as a participant. “Dadda!! Play Airport!!” “Mark, help me!” (those darn retractable handles) “Waaaa-aake up!!!!!!!”

I’m reading Playful Parenting by Lawrence Cohen. I’ve read it before and I’m now rereading it with my new book club. It’s a fantastic book with really valuable insight into attachment, connection, and healing through play. Cohen talks about how children work stuff out through their play. All the hurts, worries, anxieties, and other emotion overloads children experience daily are prime themes for the play they choose. According to Cohen, all these negative feelings are the byproduct of disconnection. By being a “playful parent”, one can reestablish that connection, and speed in the healing that comes from playing.

So, the suitcase game is obviously about separation, loss, and reuniting. Mark is finally back to a regular schedule after working CRAZY overtime hours for the past six weeks. It doesn’t take a child psychologist to see where the game comes from. Does knowing the reasons and originations of the play make it any easier to tolerate, ad nauseum? Maybe.

Buttons

One of our very favorite non-toy toys is a bucket of buttons. Ben used to play with them back when he was two and Will was a baby. They were a special toy we could only play with when the baby was asleep. Now that Will is no longer a baby (he’s just a boy!), he gets to join in on the fun while Ella Rose is sleeping. These parameters of playtime, I’m certain, add to the great appeal of the Buttons. Yet, not only this. There are a bazillion things you can do with a bucket of buttons. Defining and sorting by attribute (ten dollar math teacher word=size, shape, color, etc.) is a natural interaction. There’s also stacking, counting, lining up, creating designs, building, trading, flipping, spinning, rolling, pretending, throwing ["no! no throwing!"], balancing, scooping, pouring, dumping, and then just running your hands through the pile, feeling the cool, smoothness of the shiny plastic as they filter through your fingers. Oh yeah. We love the Buttons.

This particular playtime was all about pretend. There were button muffins since they fit so perfectly into those little paint palettes, there was an oven (“Ben, it’s hot. Get your oven mitten.”), there were ‘knobs’ to turn, things to adjust, buttons to beep and a ‘timer’.

So, why, exactly, do we continue to buy toys?? Who, the hell, knows?

Children’s Museum of the Lowcountry

Winner! We loved Charleston’s Children’s Museum of the Lowcountry. Super cool exhibits. We didn’t get to play with everything this first trip, so we went ahead and bought a family membership. I’m certain we’ll get our money’s worth. We went with our pal, Becca. She’s here, in her feather boa, posing with the boys in front of the child-size entrance.

Becca and Ben loved the kid-life-size shrimp boat. They intermittently and simultaneously were fishers, workers, and pirates. Will liked the rubber fish, but was a bit put off by most of the other, older children on the boat and their boisterous play. Ben, on the other hand, is excited by the loud dramatic play scenes. He is especially attracted to the “captain”. You know him. The bossiest kid on the boat who has comandeered both the wheel and the captain’s hat? He’s yelling orders at whomever will listen to “man the sails!” “get the nets!” “no, I’M the captain!” The other children follow along with frantic yelling and running in their mock panic. This ’stress’ theme seems to be common across age groups. I wonder if that’s just part of what makes action play exciting, or if it’s a sign of the times. Anyway, here are our little skippers.

The next best part of the museum experience was the grocery store. At least for Will it was. Ben did not secure a shopping cart quickly enough for his liking and returned to the shrimp boat with Becca. But Will. Oh my little shopper. The child-size metal carts are the same as the kid carts the boys love love love to use at Whole Foods. In the museum grocery store, though, the kid’s are in charge. Mama doesn’t get to say what goes in the cart. Once Will figured that part out, it was like a kid in a candy store, er, grocery store. Heh.

The store set up was adorable with shelves of packaged goods, a meat counter, a dairy case (with cool air blowing!), a flower display, a small refrigerator near the checkout lanes with convenience sized drinks. The checkout area was complete with a scanner that actually scanned (all the food had UPC labels!) and beeped and totaled up the bill on the computer screen.

As you can imagine, this is a hugely popular exhibit. Where he was daunted on the shrimp boat, Will charged right into the fury in the grocery. The produce section, where we do most of our actual shopping got a mere glance, with the exception of the procurement of one bright yellow plastic ear of corn. We don’t eat corn. Food sensitivities and diet protocol prohibit it. We haven’t had any in months, maybe a year. Will gleefully tossed that into the cart. He then zipped through the aisles where “real” cans, boxes, and plastic/rubber replicas of food items were neatly placed by their photo labels. None of it too familiar (since we eat mostly whole foods these days), he pounced on the things he recognized. “Mustard!” “Beans!” “Baking soda!” (which cracked me up) He didn’t even blink at the boxes of mac-n-cheese, crackers, or cereal. In the oh-so-cute, “air conditioned” dairy case, however, it was a different story. “CHEESE!!” Will exclaimed, practically exploding with enthusiasm. Where he had only selected one each of the other items, Will cleared the shelves of the cream cheese boxes, hunks of ’swiss’, and bright orange cheddar. Will has never tolerated dairy well. As a breastfeeding infant, he’d puke if *I* consumed any milk products. His intolerance has continued until very recently with the introduction of goat’s milk cheddar. I believe we have an addict.

The grocery store was really really hard to leave. There was some screaming. Some falling down dramatically. Some throwing of baking soda boxes. And then a full recovery. Phew. We can’t wait to go back.