With his ability to read his speech has improved.
He's starting to understand that certain words look the same.
But the concept that a word can have more than one meaning has been a bit difficult for him.
One day we were walking home from the park, I told him we were going to go home and dye eggs...
Charlie was very concerned.
He stopped ... right in the middle of the busy intersection we were crossing.
I was cross with him, and had to pull him out of the street so that the cars in the intersection could go.
He started crying, a little dramatically.
And then very dramatically.
I assumed he was upset that he had to hold my hand to cross the street.
He's become very independent lately -
And also doesn't do well with touch, it's part of his sensory processing difference.
So I kept walking and hoped that he would calm down.
But I should have realized this was Charlie, my child that likes to fixate and rarely "gets over" anything.
We often talk about something for months on end, every day the same topic will resurface.
When we got home he was still upset.
He was actually screaming and the tears were streaming down his face.
I got Ephram in and sat down with Charlie.
We did some deep breathing exercises and some of the touch therapy that we have learned.
He was calm enough to have a conversation within a few minutes.
I asked him why he was so upset.
I expected to hear the usual, "Why did you touch me?"
Having a child that is ultra sensitive to touch is a huge challenge.
I try to avoid touch unless he initiates it.
I've learned that different kinds of touch evoke a different response.
Charlie generally likes pretty hard touch. So, if I give him a big bear hug we're good.
A little hug can send him into a fit.
But, seriously, he stopped in the middle of a busy intersection. Touching his hand was unavoidable.
He didn't answer my question.
I wasn't sure that he'd heard it at all.
I was just so happy that he was calm that I sent him upstairs to wash the dirt off his hands.
I went into the kitchen to get a snack out for the kids.
Charlie came in and said,
"Do you remember when Tiger was sick and he had to go with Dad and be dead?"
And then I realized why he was upset.
We recently lost our loyal cat, Tiger.
So we've had many discussions about another kind of dying lately.
The concept is very difficult for a small child to grasp.
He has fixated on death a little bit since then.
When I told him that we were going to dye eggs, he thought that we were going to make them be dead.
(Never mind the fact that they will never get to be chickens anyway.)
His fit on the way home was in mourning for Tiger.
We talked about Tiger and about death for a few minutes.
And then I explained the differences between the words "die" and "dye".
A relieved Charlie informed me that I should have just told him that we were going to color the eggs.
I'll remember that next year Charlie!
Luckily he wasn't traumatized. Dying our eggs this year was a lot of fun. Andy helped Ephram contribute and Charlie was able to dye his eggs completely on his own this year. We were all sad when the last egg was "colored" and the job was done. Next year - more eggs!
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