Fairy Tales Do Come True

The inspiration for the title of this blog came from the fairytale unit at the private preschool.  Last year, when Paige was asked what she would wish for if she had a magic wand, she said, "That my brother would play with me."  The bittersweet message struck my heart and I knew that she deep down wanted recovery for him more than her little five-year-old self could verbalize.  The unit combined a week of fairy tales, prince and princess talk, and ended with a "Fairy Tale Ball."  The children all dressed up as princesses and knights and had a royal feast, complete with dancing.

The week of fairy tales had arrived for Hunter's class.  His wand was sparkly, and he wished that he could make his "Thomas come to life."  He enjoyed talking about the books they were reading and was excited to dress up as "Mike the Knight," as we called him. 

His antibiotics finished Wednesday.  That night, I started seeing the real Hunter again.  He was looking in our eyes again, answering questions appropriately, and was, for the most part, sweet natured in his communications and behavior.  His arms were not flapping quite as much.  He also had had three good days at school...Tuesday and Wednesday he didn't have his ABA aide at school, and he did great!  A teacher friend of mine said she had been watching him on the playground, and saw he didn't have his aide, and couldn't believe his social initiations and reciprocation.  I was hopeful that he would have a good night's rest and would be ready to go to the ball with his friends the next day.

He didn't want to put his knight costume on in the morning, but when we arrived at school, he willingly put it on and ran into school, shield in hand.  He was happy, excited, and waved goodbye without looking back.  First step seemed to go flawlessly.  I was on pins and needles all day, wondering if he would go through with the formal entrance and sit with his friends at their fancy table. 

The parents lined the wall of the gym, and the classes were waiting outside of their classroom doors.  Ms. Gina's class was first, and I could see Hunter standing with his beautiful little partner, Molly.

The prayers started, the hands were shaking as I was holding the camera, and then...his name was announced.  Princess Molly and Knight Hunter!  The parents clapped and he started walking...

and smiling....

 ...and after a little help ("I don't know where to sit!") sat down at the table with his friends!  He kept glancing back at Peter and I, and I was giving him big smiles and a thumbs up.  He started to frown and talk loudly, and Ms. Gina went over to him and calmly talked him, and the behaviors stopped.  When she got up, he looked back over at us, and foolishly, I gave him another thumbs up.  He started to aggressively take off his knight costume.  Peter leaned over to me and said, "Stop looking at him.  He is doing it because you are giving him attention."  HELLO!!!!!!!!  I broke the cardinal rule of ABA therapy for a child whose function of behavior is mainly attention.  As soon as I looked away, he sat still and started to relax.  The other three teachers finished announcing their classes and the kids began to eat their feast.  At that point, the parents were allowed to join their children at their tables and Hunter started crying, complaining about his plate, his drink, how he didn't know how to do something, etc.  I reminded him how fun it was to be at the ball with his friends, and somehow coerced him to put his costume back on.  We took a few pictures and had a smiley little boy.

one of hunter's best buddies

and another sweet buddy...and his ball date!

always pushing up sleeves on long sleeve shirts

Beautiful Ms. Gina as Snow White

Hunter found his new McQueen in my purse and had to show it to his friends



We told Hunter that he could get a new McQueen car if he had a good week (the therapists called it a "jackpot" incentive), culminating with the Fairy Tale Ball.  Obviously, I wanted him to comply with directions and follow what the rest of the class was doing for the ball, but my biggest motive was for him to realize how much fun he could have when he participated with his friends.  Once he calmed down and felt comfortable (maybe it was the McQueen in his hand), he actually was smiling and laughing, and interacting with several of the children. 

It was time for the big dance to start.  The kids had practiced in class, learning the proper dance techniques and manners.  Hunter walked to the "dance floor" with Molly, and just stood there. 

C'mon buddy, you can do it!  I think Molly initiated the dance, but he still put his arms around her and moved to the music.

Look at those smiles!

Poor Molly had some competition for Hunter's attention: Lightning McQueen

The kids took a break when the song ended, and Hunter wanted his costume off.  I wasn't going to argue...he was having a great time!

Free dance!

Such a beauty!  The best partner we could have asked for! 

goofing around

He surpassed our expectations and for the most part, participated in the formality with minor hiccups.  But most importantly, he had fun.  He danced, he smiled, he giggled, he hugged; he, at that point, defeated one of the biggest obstacles of Autism: social interaction.  Initially, I was upset that Hunter found his McQueen before the event was over.  But later, I realized that Hunter didn't dance with his sweet partner and his friends because he was working for one more token on his token economy (visual system his therapists use to earn breaks/rewards). 

He was dancing because he wanted to. 

There were no extrinsic, tangible rewards.  The intrinsic motivation for social participation, which is typically missing from children with an Autism Spectrum Disorder, was there. 

I couldn't have dreamed for anything else for my little prince. 

And I couldn't believe anymore so now that we are going to defeat this disorder. 

"And they lived happily ever after."