Stop.  It’s a simple word with a simple meaning.  Most four year-old children can identify a stop sign.  Most can spell stop. (Or at least all of my kids could by the middle of their fourth year. This may be advanced or delayed, but it is my experience.)  I don’t know of many who find pleasure in writing the word.

Lil’ B, who we were told might never speak or learn to use a fork or spoon properly. (He can, and he does.)  Has discovered writing.

The thing is, nobody has ever taught him how to write.

I haven’t.  I’m sure his preschool hasn’t.  Mom is in Turkey finishing out the last of a 15 turned 16 month tour of duty in the Air Force.  He is usually not allowed pens, markers, pencils or crayons because I can’t afford to paint that often. But he’s learned to write the word stop.

(I just found out that my sister has worked with him on a few letters, but that’s as far as his learning goes.)

Imagine if you will, my surprise when my son stopped riding his bike on the patio yesterday and exclaimed “Oh no!  Where’s stop?”  Then proceeded to make his own stop sign, so he would know where to stop and turn.

Actually, you don’t have to imagine, I got it on video:

Good job little guy.  We’re proud of you.

Peace.  I’m out

Life sometimes changes focus for you and sometimes you have to decide it’s time to change the focus of your life on your own.  In either case it’s inevitable that the focus does change, that the direction you took yesterday doesn’t jibe with the course you’ve chosen for the next week, month or year.

It’s the same with a blog of this type as well.  When I started A father Speaks I did so with a very clear mission statement.  I would speak for my Autistic son until he could do so for himself.  It was my way of coping with some of the frustrations involved in having a nonverbal child.

Now he can speak for himself.

It’s still only in a limited fashion, but every day his vocabulary and mastery of language grows.  He can ask for what he wants and express himself.  He can tell me when he hurts or when he’s happy.  He laughs, he cries and he asks questions.  He’s still delayed, but is no longer stranded behind the glass wall of Autism.  He’s moving into the world with the rest of us.

The original point of this blog is no longer valid.  I’m not sure what I had originally thought I would do at this point. I didn’t think it would get here so quickly.  His advancements have thrilled and amazed everyone involved, from teachers and coordinators to family and friends.

Don’t get me wrong, these are welcome advances.  Every time he says something new I revel in his ability to learn.  I’m so proud of him that I could burst. His brothers help, they show encouragement and his mother beams and cries from her post across the Atlantic ocean.

But I no longer need to speak for him.  Lil’ B. is now capable of doing that on his own.  with that comes the choice of whether to simply walk away from A Father Speaks or to adapt it to fit the new realities of our lives.  I have chosen the latter.

Lil’ b. has never existed in a vacuum.  There’s a whirlwind of life around him. His brothers, the dog, his mom who is serving overseas.  Family drama, absolute insanity and terrible boredom.  All of these things work on our daily routine.

This blog is shifting to encompass all of those things.  In short, it’s turning into a Daddy blog in the true sense, with less than 100% of its focus on Lil’ B. and much more on the issues that a family deals with.  It all belongs here now and I intend to give all of these things their due.

I hope the changes are OK with all of you.  The new course is set and it will take time to make adjustments.

For now,

Peace.  I’m out.

Unfortunately, my life never gets any less busy.  Being a work at home dad and a mild workaholic can lead to a pretty long workweek. (My last workweek lasted 19 days.) Of course on top of the work, there is being Dad, which takes up at least as much time as work does.  In the end there are the unavoidable moments when I have to choose between working yet another day or taking some time for myself before burnout sets in.

The last few days have been just that.  My R&R time.  I always feel regretful for lost time, but my mind was getting fuzzy and my creativity was waning.  A break was needed.  Many aliens were harmed repeatedly in the making of this break, though England was saved and the U.S. ended with a fighting chance.

Through my short hiatus, live for the kids still rolled on.  Lil’ B. had some very good days, which is school is happy to describe to us:

Good day. Quieter than he usually is. He verbalizes every request now instead of just pointing.

I’ve noticed the same thing.  His verbalization and retention skills are improving very rapidly.  If progress continues at this rate he might be off the spectrum well before I had ever dreamed he would be.

Today’s repor was equally as encouraging:

Great day.  Initiated playing ball and ring around the rosy with other students

Now there’s progress!  This is the kid who never interacted with anyone even close to his own age group.  Now he’s playing because he wants to!

I really do attribute many of these advances to the fact that his brothers (who I will introduce you to tomorrow) have come to stay with us full time.  Constant contact with them has made him want to be more like them and less turned in on himself.  to them go the credits though.  I’m still just slogging along.

For tonight I’m going to head back to my happy lazy place.  Tomorrow it’s back to it at 120% as usual.  Right this minute it’s time for No Reservations.

It’s been hectic around the Russell compound for the past few days, what with long weekends and nagging coughs. Add visits by grandparents and half-brothers and all kinds of craziness, and I find that I’m just a bit behind here, but this will be corrected immediately!

I have Three days worth to catch you up on.  I promise I’ll get the routine back on track now that we’re done with short weeks for a while!

So, Friday’s Report from School:

Great Day. Very polite. Saying “Thank you” and “You’re welcome”.

Yep, that’s my boy.  He’s using his manners, even if he has a difficult time forming a sentence sometimes.  It makes me smile.

And Monday:

Good day.  does the hand motions to the songs and sings them.  Imitates very well.

I would be thrilled with this if they’d send me a list of the songs they sing in class.  have to remind myself to send a note tomorrow.  While he is singing songs and doing pretty well, I don’t recognize them, so I can’t sing with him!

And lastly we get caught up with today:

Starting to use his classmates names when he talks to them.  He has come such a long way in the short time he’s been here. He is a pleasure to have in class.

Now that’s a great way to end a post, donchathink!

I have a lot more tomorrow.

Peace. I’m out.

There was a time when we were worried my son would never speak.  those worries are, thankfully, behind us.  Lil’ B.’s vocabulary grows stronger every day.  He asks for drinks, shows me where things are and calls people by name.  The world is no longer an anonymous, nameless place to him.  This is a blessing wrapped in a rather jabbery curse, as now my son is never quiet, but it beats the alternative.

The school is as happy about this as we are:

Lots of talking and initiating interactions. (I’m leaving out the rest today because it’s of a personal nature)

Soon I fear that I’ll have yet another small voice yammering for attention incessantly.  Of course when I do have that worry I remember the years of silence…

then i smile.

Peace.  I’m out.

there are some things that just make me smile.  some are big things, others are small.  the news I got today is a bit of both.  it’s a little thing for most kids, a huge thing for Lil’ B, and a monumental thing for all of us.

From the school”

Great day. A lot more talking. He’s verbally making requests and says my name to get my attention. We are working on him using the names of other staff and students.

It’s a small note, but one that gave me an ear-to-ear smile.  he has been talking more, but rarely in larger social settings.  I’m glad he’s comfortable in his classroom and pray that the progress continues.

Today is a very good day.

Peace. I’m out.

It’s finally that day.  The biggest day in my son’s life.  He’s off to school.  His life as a little person has begun and just like the rest of us, he now has duties and responsibilities outside the home.  I’m thrilled for him, but a little unsure as to how I feel myself…

The house is so empty!

Lil' B on his very first day at school. (That's him in the back, checking out the room. His teacher is in the foreground and his big brother E' is asking her questions about the school day... Best big bro Ever!)

Today I sit, for the first time in forever, in an empty house. I can do anything I want to do.

But I don’t want to do anything.  I’m lonely.  Proud that he’s in school, happy that all of my kids are old enough to have lives of their own, but lonely.

I think I need to get out of here for a while.

Well, of course he counts!  he means the world to his mother and I, but that’s not what the title of this post refers to.  It’s all about our son actually “counting” to eleven. some of the words still aren’t clear, but he’s working on it.

Pardon the messy room, we’re in the middle of moving, so things are pretty hectic.

I’ll try to post more of an update later today.

Peace, I’m out.

The world at times is a wonderful and inspiring place. For our family, the world was much more than that this week. Our son made sure that it was by quite simply achieving more than anyone thought he could at this point.

Not only has he continued with his counting, he now counts everything (up to three, then he starts over.) He’s learned that holding up his fingers and extending them one at a time is the perfect chance to practice this new skill, and even though he hasn’t figured out how to extend his index finger, he’s begun counting from his little finger backward. It’s still counting to three, which is an accomplishment for any two and-a-half year old, let alone a child with autism.

Yesterday in therapy he completed every single task. This is a first for Lil’ B., who has a severe aversion to both puzzles and books. This time however, he sat through the book and completed the puzzle with a bit of help from Miss Sandra and his mother, who was lucky enough to have the day off. The look of accomplishment in his eyes was enough to make this particular father beam with pride.

In the past few days our son has become completely annoying. He either wants to monopolize 100% of your time and attention or he is argumentative, willful and prone to tantrums when he does not get what he wants. In shot, he’s acting like every normal 2 year old, which is something we were not ready for but can’t complain about. We were never sure he’d act like an average child at all, so even though the terrible two’s aren’t what we were hoping for as a first look at his personality, it’s a welcome view nonetheless.

He is, in fact, acting so much like a normal two year old that last night when I told him that it was not time to play with his blocks, his response was “Yes Blocks!” This went on for a while, finally terminating with the bag of blocks being hurled across the living room (by Lil, B.) and a trip to sit in his room and think about just why it’s not OK to throw blocks at your mother (enforced by me, as mom was in no state to deal with him at the moment.) The terrible two’s at their worst! I love it!

The topper for the week happened last night. I was siting outside enjoying a bit of peace, quiet and nicotine (Don’t start. I don’t smoke around my family or other people that are uncomfortable with it. Take the consideration for what it is… I value their lives and yours.) Lil’ B. had been running up to the door and waving “hi”, which is new for him. Apparently my attention was drawn away from the door, so I didn’t see him make a return trip to wave.

Then I heard what is probably the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Out of the blue, in a very clear voice my son shouted “Daddy! Hi!” and waved like a madman.

I was too shocked to wave back, but I made it up to him with lots of love and tickles.

That’s it in a nutshell. I’d love to prattle on, but for now the housework and work-work beckons and i must go.

Peace, I’m out.

The last few days have been nothing short of universe-changing, earth-shattering and monumental in a very Dr. Who saves the earth with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a stick of bubble gum kind of way. If this were an epic fantasy, I would proclaim in my best bard’s voice that Our Brave Hero has officially mounted his trusty steed and is now riding with purpose toward the Citadel of Silence to do battle with the dread and all silencing Aut-ism, armed with the one weapon that can defeat such a dread foe.

Our Hero carries with him not a screwdriver which also happens to be sonic. He carries with him something far more versatile and devastating to the Lord of Silence and misunderstanding. The one weapon which can place the dread lord safely into a prison from which he can never hope to escape. He carries his voice.

He’s started talking.

The words are as yet few, but he’s begun mimicking us, the television and anyone else who speaks around him. He’s noticing facial expressions and cuing in on them and he’s doing his level best to make the people around him smile (at least when he’s not just being 2-1/2 and being mischievous.) Our hero has mastered the concept of words, and one of the first that he used was one that melted the heart of this knight in his not-so-shiny-armor.

He said Daddy, then smiled and pointed right at me.

I know that he knows what he said. he repeated it gleefully for over an hour, sometimes dragging his mother, the Good Queen through the house just so that he could point and say Daddy where she could see it. He very much enjoys pleasing the Queen, so for him it was a bit of an adventure.

He happily tries to count to three with us, mimics the sound of Sesame street characters or dora the Explorer when they say the alphabet or count, and has taken to saying “yeah”, “yep” and “uh-huh”. (He is Texan, after all.) He has also begun signing words that he has difficulty with, like “more”, in places where it is appropriate and working hard to complete the tasks his therapists set for him. It’s like someone opened the flood-gates and now there’s no stopping him. Pretty soon I’ll be asking him to stop talking for a little bit so that I can concentrate, but in his case I’m going to say that’s a good thing.

This is shaping up to be one heck of a week!

For now I’m going to take advantage of a bit of momentary silence and try to get a few things straightened up, secure in the knowledge that Our Hero will emerge victorious in the end. He’ll get through this and emerge stronger for it and we will be stronger for the journey.

Peace, I’m out.