Piece of Cake

I parked the car and turned off the ignition. “Come on, guys. Let’s see how your new preschool looks. They didn’t answer, but I didn’t expect one from them. At ages 5 and 3, both lacked even rudimentary speaking skills. Sandi unbuckled Ian from his car seat while I helped James, then we joined hands and walked into the preschool.

The boys had received their diagnosis only days earlier. Just hearing the words “autism, severely impacting their development” nearly stopped our hearts. But, we had no choice. We had to do what we could for them, so Sandi had contacted the school district immediately following the diagnosis. They pointed us to Grace Early Childhood Center and we scheduled an appointment for the next day.

During a quick tour, the teacher lifted a blanket and handed it to me. “This is a weighted blanket. We also have weighted vests and a platform swing. Great ways to deal with meltdowns.” She reached toward her desk and handed a folder to me. “Here’s a handout that shows how to make both of them.”

I read the platform swing diagram for a moment, then gave the papers to Sandi.

She studied the instructions for the weighted vest. “This is easy, Bill. They have hidden pockets with sandwich bags, filled with children’s modeling clay. Wish we’d known about these years ago.”

The teacher smiled. “Most parents feel like that, the first time they bring their autistic kiddoes here. It’s not impossible, once you know some techniques. Like everything else, you have to be flexible and use what works.”

We loaded the boys back into the car and left for home, armed with new knowledge.

“You know,” Sandi said, “I think we can do this.”

“Sure, we can.” I pulled into our driveway. “Piece of cake.”

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.