Field trip
The boy child had a school field trip today, and I went along ostensibly to chaperone but actually to act as his personal aide for the day. The first hour of the field trip was to be spent at a neighborhood park, and the second hour at a nearby grocery store.
The park was the problem. You see, since toddlerhood the boy child has been afraid of flying insects. The severity of this fear has waxed and waned, sometimes approaching and even surpassing the level of a phobia (picture a solid hour spent curled into the fetal position, absolutely inconsolable, screaming himself hoarse because he saw a fly in the house), sometimes forgotten altogether for months at a time. Right now, at this particular time, the fear is so severe that the boy child now refuses to go outside for recess. Refuses to go outside at all, in fact, unless he is wearing long pants and a hooded sweatshirt that covers his arms, neck and head. And even then he cowers against me, jumping and screaming if so much as a leaf skitters past on the sidewalk. It was the extreme nature of this fear that led us to consult a psychologist in the first place, which resulted in the Asperger's diagnosis.
And so, I went along to the park. I met the boy child as he got off the bus and assumed the position we've adopted for walking outdoors, him pressed into my side and my arm wrapped around him, shielding him from any bugs that might be in the area. He was fully zipped and hooded but otherwise didn't seem all that anxious. In fact, as we walked into the park, he drifted from my side and walked with a friend instead. He and his friend chose a spot at a picnic table and, after making sure there were no bugs on the bench, the boy child sat down and ate his lunch with no sign of anxiety whatsoever. Awesome!
Even better, after lunch the kids were given leave to play, and the boy child and his friend darted off to the swings. It was quite windy today and his hood kept blowing off, so he finally decided to leave it off altogether. This was HUGE for the boy child. "I'm feeling brave enough to do this!" he told me excitedly.
My biggest concern when the boy child was on the swings was whether or not to offer to push him. Had we been alone at the park, or around kids he didn't know, I would have stepped in and done it immediately. You see, the boy child doesn't really have the hang of how to work the swings. He knows there's something to do with moving your legs forward and back, and leaning this way and that, but he's never been able to figure out how to put it all together. But I soon found out that he wasn't particularly embarrassed about it. "I don't really know how to swing," he told his friend, who was very kind and tried to instruct him. "That's something Jennifer is going to work on with you," I said, referring to his occupational therapist. "Oh boy!" the boy child exclaimed. "I can't wait until my therapist teaches me how to do this! Hey mom, can you give me just ONE push?" So I did.
And then they were off again, running around the playscape, laughing and playing tag and acting like ordinary boys. The boy child showed no fear whatsoever. It was like all of his anxiety had been magically washed away. At one point he unzipped his sweatshirt. "I'm feeling really brave today!" he exclaimed. And some point after that, when he was all sweaty (it's in the 80s here), he actually...
Took. It. Off!
I'm not sure I can express what a huge, HUGE step this was. He was outside! And having fun! And he TOOK OFF HIS JACKET! The jacket that's been his suit of armor for more than a month now! I could not believe it. "I'm feeling extra, extra brave today, Mom!" he shrieked. "I feel so alive!" (Yes, he really says things like that. HOW CUTE IS HE?!) So I held his jacket for him, and while I saw him fidget with his bare arms and suddenly blousy t-shirt a few times, he wasn't afraid. "I'm so proud of you!" I yelled when he ran past. "I'm even more proud of myself!" he yelled back.
After the grocery store part of the field trip I headed back to the school because it was almost time for dismissal. As I sat in my car in the parking lot, reading a book, I heard the school's fire alarm go off. Oh, great. The boy child spent most of his kindergarten year in a constant state of anxiety because on his very first day of school, the fire alarm went off. He still had a lot of trouble with loud noises back then, and he was sure every day when he went to school that it would happen again. Which, of course, it did from time to time. Fire drills reduced him to tears. Once the alarm went off when he was in the bathroom at school, and he went through all of kindergarten and most of first grade refusing to use the school bathroom because of it. He's gotten somewhat better about fire drills since, but he still doesn't like them. And he was having such a good day today! Drat!
So when dismissal time finally rolled around shortly thereafter and I went inside to pick him up, the boy child was fully zippered and hooded again, hunched into himself. And then he tearfully told me that while he was outside during the fire drill, a bunch of bees were swarming around him. And so now, all the bravery that he felt earlier, all the joy he found in playing outside for the first time in over a month, has vanished as though it never happened. We're right back to square one, and he is terrified to even walk from the car to the front door of the house.
And I? Am pissed. Not at him, of course. And I guess I can't be mad at the school for conducting a safety drill. I mean, that's a GOOD thing, right? I don't know who I'm mad at exactly, but I'm just so frustrated that for one brief and glorious instant my child was without fear and felt so good about himself, and now even that tiny speck of hope has been snatched away again.
The park was the problem. You see, since toddlerhood the boy child has been afraid of flying insects. The severity of this fear has waxed and waned, sometimes approaching and even surpassing the level of a phobia (picture a solid hour spent curled into the fetal position, absolutely inconsolable, screaming himself hoarse because he saw a fly in the house), sometimes forgotten altogether for months at a time. Right now, at this particular time, the fear is so severe that the boy child now refuses to go outside for recess. Refuses to go outside at all, in fact, unless he is wearing long pants and a hooded sweatshirt that covers his arms, neck and head. And even then he cowers against me, jumping and screaming if so much as a leaf skitters past on the sidewalk. It was the extreme nature of this fear that led us to consult a psychologist in the first place, which resulted in the Asperger's diagnosis.
And so, I went along to the park. I met the boy child as he got off the bus and assumed the position we've adopted for walking outdoors, him pressed into my side and my arm wrapped around him, shielding him from any bugs that might be in the area. He was fully zipped and hooded but otherwise didn't seem all that anxious. In fact, as we walked into the park, he drifted from my side and walked with a friend instead. He and his friend chose a spot at a picnic table and, after making sure there were no bugs on the bench, the boy child sat down and ate his lunch with no sign of anxiety whatsoever. Awesome!
Even better, after lunch the kids were given leave to play, and the boy child and his friend darted off to the swings. It was quite windy today and his hood kept blowing off, so he finally decided to leave it off altogether. This was HUGE for the boy child. "I'm feeling brave enough to do this!" he told me excitedly.
My biggest concern when the boy child was on the swings was whether or not to offer to push him. Had we been alone at the park, or around kids he didn't know, I would have stepped in and done it immediately. You see, the boy child doesn't really have the hang of how to work the swings. He knows there's something to do with moving your legs forward and back, and leaning this way and that, but he's never been able to figure out how to put it all together. But I soon found out that he wasn't particularly embarrassed about it. "I don't really know how to swing," he told his friend, who was very kind and tried to instruct him. "That's something Jennifer is going to work on with you," I said, referring to his occupational therapist. "Oh boy!" the boy child exclaimed. "I can't wait until my therapist teaches me how to do this! Hey mom, can you give me just ONE push?" So I did.
And then they were off again, running around the playscape, laughing and playing tag and acting like ordinary boys. The boy child showed no fear whatsoever. It was like all of his anxiety had been magically washed away. At one point he unzipped his sweatshirt. "I'm feeling really brave today!" he exclaimed. And some point after that, when he was all sweaty (it's in the 80s here), he actually...
Took. It. Off!
I'm not sure I can express what a huge, HUGE step this was. He was outside! And having fun! And he TOOK OFF HIS JACKET! The jacket that's been his suit of armor for more than a month now! I could not believe it. "I'm feeling extra, extra brave today, Mom!" he shrieked. "I feel so alive!" (Yes, he really says things like that. HOW CUTE IS HE?!) So I held his jacket for him, and while I saw him fidget with his bare arms and suddenly blousy t-shirt a few times, he wasn't afraid. "I'm so proud of you!" I yelled when he ran past. "I'm even more proud of myself!" he yelled back.
After the grocery store part of the field trip I headed back to the school because it was almost time for dismissal. As I sat in my car in the parking lot, reading a book, I heard the school's fire alarm go off. Oh, great. The boy child spent most of his kindergarten year in a constant state of anxiety because on his very first day of school, the fire alarm went off. He still had a lot of trouble with loud noises back then, and he was sure every day when he went to school that it would happen again. Which, of course, it did from time to time. Fire drills reduced him to tears. Once the alarm went off when he was in the bathroom at school, and he went through all of kindergarten and most of first grade refusing to use the school bathroom because of it. He's gotten somewhat better about fire drills since, but he still doesn't like them. And he was having such a good day today! Drat!
So when dismissal time finally rolled around shortly thereafter and I went inside to pick him up, the boy child was fully zippered and hooded again, hunched into himself. And then he tearfully told me that while he was outside during the fire drill, a bunch of bees were swarming around him. And so now, all the bravery that he felt earlier, all the joy he found in playing outside for the first time in over a month, has vanished as though it never happened. We're right back to square one, and he is terrified to even walk from the car to the front door of the house.
And I? Am pissed. Not at him, of course. And I guess I can't be mad at the school for conducting a safety drill. I mean, that's a GOOD thing, right? I don't know who I'm mad at exactly, but I'm just so frustrated that for one brief and glorious instant my child was without fear and felt so good about himself, and now even that tiny speck of hope has been snatched away again.
posted by Miss Anthrope at 2:26 PM
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