When It's Time to Change. . .

I love those lyrics in the song that they sang on the. . .ahem. . . Brady Bunch: "When it's time to change, you've got to rearrange...", with Peter squawking each "change" with his new adolescent voice. Funny moment in the show, but truly an apropos theme song for parents of young children!

Through a symbiotic combination of my 2 1/2 year old son's Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) and his, well, age of 2 1/2 years old, he doesn't do well with transitions these days. Actually it was several months ago that he started to fall apart when we would announce that it was time to _____ (fill in the blank with any number of things) instead of continuing to _______ (fill in the blank with any number of things). It didn't really matter if what we were suggesting was way more fun than what he was currently doing; just the mere idea of change was too daunting for him. (Hmmm, sounds a bit like some adults I know. . .myself included, sometimes.)

To be fair, his SPD does make things complicated in this regard. For instance, we know that he LOVES his "school" (his speech/sensory group that meets once a week at a nearby Grand Rapids school). However, he can't immediately reconcile what he loves about it with the idea of leaving home to go there. Too many things are difficult about the journey, such as having to be buckled in a tight car seat, possible disconcerting noises along the way, blinding sunlight streaming through the windshield. And even more once we get there: other children who make sudden movements and loud sounds, lots of adults who may talk too fast, activities that challenge him out of his comfort zone, and class that is far too short and far too long for him all at the same time. It takes a lot of effort for him to keep his body under control while he's out in the public eye, and that can outweigh all of the positives that he has tucked away in his heart and mind.

It's hard to know what goes through his mind when we tell him that it's time to go to school. Or eat dinner. Or leave the park. Or go upstairs for a bath. Or stop playing "horsey" after the 25th repetition because Mom's spine is going to get stuck in an unnatural diagonal. All we do know is the reaction we used to get: a total meltdown, far more often than not. Even the best-intended verbal preparations ("Ronan, after we eat breakfast we are going to put our shoes on and go to school") wouldn't prevent the shrieking, head-banging, limb-flailing episodes we became so familiar with.

UNTIL. . .my husband had a brilliant idea. Use the timer. Yep. That little white box. Let me tell you, that thing has made our job soooooo much easier over the past few months. Our timer gives a little "beep beep, beep beep" at the 5-minute warning, which has worked out most beautifully. We set the timer for 6 or 7 minutes and say, "Ronan, when the timer goes off, we are going to ____". Then when it gives its 5-minute warning, we say to Ronan pointedly, "five minutes" and we make him repeat it back to us so we know that he heard it. (Most of the time now he beats us to it.) Then when the time is up and the timer goes off, he dutifully gives up his current activity and moves on to the next. No kidding, this works ALL THE TIME with him. It's as if the role of bad guy has been taken from us and handed to the little white box. . .and he knows he can't argue with a gadget.

Let's see. . .we use the timer when we want to turn off a video, when it's time to go outside to play, when it's time to get in the car, when it's time to leave the park, when it's time to go upstairs for a bath, when it's time to get OUT of the bath, and probably a dozen other times in a given week.

What an amazing, simple discovery. What a smart man I married. And what glorious harmony in our household when we can make transitions more bearable for our sweet little boy!