Drop Off

Caleb loves routine. 

It's embedded into his life. 

Everything from what he eats to how he greats people can almost always be predicted because it's the same every time. Children with autism crave that constant sameness; it soothes them, comforts them. As an autism mom I crave it as well, not only so I can have structure in the house, but because it keeps meltdowns at bay...and let me tell you...they can be big.

Every morning is the same. After our rigid morning routine of waking up, eating, and dressing, it's to the car and off to school. And every day when we pull up to drop him off, a special ed aide is there to open the door, say good morning, and usher him to line up and wait for the rest of his class. Every day {she's the sweetest}. And then came the day she was sick. His teacher was there to open his door and I knew what was coming. He kicked and screamed and cried, lept from his car seat and held on to me, sobbing giant crocodile tears...she tried to pull him out as he clutched the headrest with white knuckles {let's not forget about Lilly who was in the car too, just as upset at Caleb as he was about the change in routine}. Does cable like his teacher? Of course! Does he ever behave this way at school? Never! It was all because someone different opened the door. 

So a while went by with the regular routine as his teacher wrote a social story for him. If you aren't familiar with social stories, they're used to help children with autism understand interpersonal situations. This is actually not unlike what we do when we prepare him for the doctor, going to the store, disneyland, etc. but these stories are written in ways that show step-by-step what will happen and what kind of behavior is to be expected. His teacher tailored this social story to morning drop off and how every day changes. 

I knew the day to warm up to this social story was coming because the night before, Caleb was getting teary and anxious, saying "my teacher doesn't open the door." I just kept telling him it's okay, every day is different, your job is to go line up. 

The morning came and his teacher was there, but his aide opened the door. No big deal. He did great.

The next morning both were there, but his teacher opened the door. Que the tears. And screaming. And sobbing. And headrest clutching.

The next morning his teacher and aide opened the door together...holding hands and smiling. Super sweet, hilarious, and Caleb got a kick out of it...good job, bug!

And today, after talking him through it on the way to school, his teacher opened the door. He said good morning, got his backpack, and went to line up.

This, my friends, is a victory. It's amazing and exhausting that something as small as kindergarten drop off can be so big and challenging. At the beginning of the week I was crying in the car on the way home, and today I was grinning and pumping my fist in the air. 

I can't forget that tomorrow might be different, but for now I'm celebrating. 

*love you TJ