My day home has had the rare fortune of being able to be a part of a lot of long term families. From the tired first time parents dropping off their baby, on their first day back to work, hiding their tears in the entrance. To the sad goodbyes when their children head into school full time, as I stand hiding my tears in the entrance.
Children have always fascinated me with their resilience, they are such amazing little humans. One of the families I did child care for was a part of my every day for over 13 years. Their children, all very different individuals, were such a delight to my day. From the oldest with his quiet demeanor, the middle child a very outspoken fire cracker, to the youngest, the perfect mix of his siblings. We grew together, jumping through good times and bad. Overcoming obstacles to help all of us grow into a tight daycare family. The youngest child stands out most for me due to his undiagnosed autism, (his diagnosis didn’t happen until he was in full time school). His parents were in denial, but I did my research so I could give him the best head start I could.
Some of my favorite memories of this child include his love of music, his heartwarming smile, love of art, hugs received when he was feeling accomplished, and his patience. Every time we reached a milestone that was tough to get to, we would have a little dance party. From discovering ways to get past aversions to texture (ie: mashed potatoes, apple sauce, etc..), to defeating toilet training in under 3 months. Teaching him tolerance to loud noises and other children. In his own way he taught me so much as well. The biggest lesson he taught me was in order to teach a child, I had to learn the child’s needs, get past myself, and understand the importance of laughter. His laughter will always live in my heart 🙂
Early intervention, and patience paid off. Before he entered mainstream school, he could print his name, knew his colors/numbers/letters/shapes, his early education on par with his peers. In addition, but most important, he knew how to communicate his need for space, how to accept physical contact,(he was not always willing to allow other children to be in his “bubble”), and so much more. The other children learned tolerance, acceptance, and how to fully respect personal space. He was the best learning curve for all of us. The magic of learning how to teach him is still part of my curriculum. His presence was so good for all of us.
It did take a few years for the school to approach the family on getting him assessed, even longer to get the diagnosis, but he continued to develop. After the diagnosis, his Education Assistant (with his parents permission), approached me about his early education, praising my day home for his early successes. She was excited to learn how to approach him in a way he didn’t feel threatened by, and how to help him with accepting her guidance. This moment made me feel like a superhero.
I shared with her all of my tricks and his reward system, everything I could think of. She asked me what helped me to see his diagnosis, and I explained everything I’d seen. Sometimes he didn’t want to walk, or walked on tip toes, cupped his ears to sudden sounds, lacked eye contact, repeated movements, and had delayed language development. Explaining to her that with all children, I watch for milestones. When he wasn’t reaching his I decided to keep a diary of his development. Taking the time to include all of his magnificent attributes that needed no correction. It was not difficult to see who he was, as he spent a great deal of time with me. Giving all of my information to her helped me continue to be a part of his future achievements. That made me feel valued.
It was rewarding to be a part of this little person’s life, something I didn’t take lightly. When we would go outside, he could sit for hours watching the clouds go by, or inspecting ladybugs. He had a quiet calm about him, teaching all of us about the importance of silence. Now don’t get me wrong, he was verbal, but he had this way of knowing when quiet was more important than words. The way he would go about helping me learn how to help him develop was amazing as well. Walking was when he was ready, looking at me he grabbed my hands to stand up and slowly, trusting his own little body, he started to take steps. The way his little body could easily pick up the rhythm of music as he would dance. Singing made up songs about his environment, his friends, even his favorite foods. His smile was very infectious, and he liked to help with the babies as he got older, being very gentle. Praise was easily received, from a fist bump, high five, to the special hugs when he was very excited.
To this day, this child is still a big part of my heart. Although he has grown up and thrives in his new environment, with Graduation on his horizon, he will always be my little boy. Looking back I often think to myself, “Where did the time go?”.