Posted in sqt

schnepf farm peaches

I remember, as a child, picking strawberries and sweet corn and blueberries and apples and Concord grapes, each in their own season, and bringing home the harvest to delight in and preserve. The seasons and the fruits of the land are different here in the desert than they were in the Northeast where I was young, but they are still here.

For example, it is May, and the peaches are ripe! Some types of peaches need more frost hours than we get here, but quite a few are adapted for the climate, and Schnepf Farm (about 40 minutes from our house) happens to have a peach orchard. The grove we picked in was the oldest at around 20 years old – these were established trees with a lot of fruit.

This was the kids’ first time in an orchard, and they responded in characteristic ways. Limerick absorbed everything I told him about how to tell when a peach was ripe and ready to pick, compiled it in his head into a rule, and proceeded to analyze every peach in his reach according to said rule (he does the same thing with the blackberries at home – and he really does end up only selecting the best).

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Rondel smelled the peaches before we even entered the orchard, tried to find the most heavily laden trees, and then got distracted looking for bugs.

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Aubade wandered around after the boys, commenting on everything she saw (especially the fallen/half-eaten/smashed peaches on the ground), getting excited about the bugs and about being lifted up to reach the higher peaches, and helping me take the picked peaches back to our box.

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We didn’t get too many – we don’t eat much jam, and we don’t use frozen peaches much compared to other fruits – but we have plenty to eat and enjoy, and it was good to be there: to see and touch the plants and the soil that birth some of the food we eat; to smell the fruit of the land; to hear the wind whisper in the leaves; and to taste the sweet juice running over in every bite as it only does in a freshly-picked peach, as the Psalmist writes of the blessings of God, “You crown the year with Your goodness, and Your paths drip with abundance.” (Ps. 65:11)

I didn’t follow all the {sqt} rules this week, but I’m still linking up… 🙂 Go read the rest of the linkup at This Ain’t the Lyceum today!

“This is the thrilling romance of Orthodoxy. People have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy, hum-drum, and safe. There never was anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy. It was sanity: and to be sane is more dramatic than to be mad. It was the equilibrium of a man behind madly rushing horses, seeming to stoop this way and to sway that, yet in every attitude having the grace of statuary and the accuracy of arithmetic. The Church in its early days went fierce and fast with any warhorse; yet it is utterly unhistoric to say that she merely went mad along one idea, like a vulgar fanaticism. She swerved to left and right, so exactly as to avoid enormous obstacles. She left on one hand the huge bulk of Arianism, buttressed by all the worldly powers to make Christianity too worldly. The next instant she was swerving to avoid an orientalist, which would have made it too unworldly. The orthodox Church never took the tame course or accepted the conventions; the orthodox Church was never respectable. It would have been easier to have accepted the earthly power of the Arians. It would have been easy, in the Calvinistic seventeenth century, to fall into the bottomless pit of predestination. It is easy to be a madman: it is easy to be a heretic. It is always easy to let the age have its head; the difficult thing is to keep one’s own. It is always easy to be a modernist; as it is easy to be a snob. To have fallen into any of those open traps of error and exaggeration which fashion after fashion and sect after sect set along the historic path of Christendom – that would indeed have been simple. It is always simple to fall; there are an infinity of angles at which one falls, only one at which one stands. To have fallen into any one of the fads from Gnosticism to Christian Science would indeed have been obvious and tame. But to have avoided them all has been one whirling adventure; and in my vision the heavenly chariot flies thundering through the ages, the dull heresies sprawling and prostrate, the wild truth reeling but erect.” – G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

orthodoxy

Posted in family life

mary, mary, quite contrary

Finally, finally, our yard has come to life.

It’s been almost two years since we moved in to a home with a large empty dirt yard, and  slowly began to shape it as time and budget allowed – and the final step, this spring, was to add irrigation and plants.

  1. Instead of grass, we planted a lawn of clover and herniaria. And then on impulse I threw in a bunch of wildflower seeds and they took over. Not so great of a decision there – but they brought all the butterflies to our house while they lasted, and they aren’t perennial so the main staples of the lawn should eventually fill in the space. Rondel spent a few days prowling through the wildflowers with an old salsa container trying (and succeeding, surprisingly often) to catch the visiting butterflies.191140
  2. On another impulse, fortunately with a more fortuitous outcome, I planted a row of mammoth sunflowers along the eastern side of the lawn, in between the lawn and the gardens. They still have another two months to grow (and won’t those bright blossoms be a gift in the hottest, most barren part of summer here in Phoenix?) and already the largest is taller than me! 

  3. On the west side of the yard we planted our first two little saplings, a lemon and a peach (we have room for three more on the east side, but the ground isn’t ready). And the little peach tree has the softest, fuzziest baby peaches on it right now! We pruned off most of them so the tree wouldn’t be over-stressed, but we left a few – I don’t know exactly which variety it is but I believe it should typically finish ripening by mid-May, depending on the weather. 191138
  4. Speaking of weather, our cold, wet winter has turned into an uncommonly mild and rainy spring, which I really appreciated when I realized that my cantaloupe vines were taking over everything and I seriously needed some sort of trellis to provide them with the necessary space to grow. Two trips to Lowe’s (something is always forgotten) and many hours of work later (spread out over several days), I got them built and in place, and un-tangled and tied up as much of the viny mass as possible. They’re like tunnels over the path between the garden beds and if the cantaloupe grow to the top I will be very happy but not at all surprised as they are already halfway up. Word to the inexperienced: have ample space or trellises in place before your cantaloupe have seven-foot long vines twisting around each other and trying to take over the neighboring garden beds! 

  5. Cantaloupes are not the only vining plant we have growing right now, though the others are still much more restrained. Opposite from the cantaloupe on the north side we have cucumbers and butternut squash, and on the other side of the southern trellis from the cantaloupe we have pumpkins. I am doing my best to train these up the trellis as soon as they are long enough to reach it to avoid the tangled mess that is the bed of cantaloupes…191150
  6. In the remaining un-trellised bed I have mostly herbs: lavender, rosemary, oregano, purple basil, sage, mint, and dill. It is so convenient to have those herbs on hand when I’m cooking (especially the dill, which I love and which is expensive and doesn’t last well when bought at the store). I am, however, going to have to put a barrier around the mint to keep it from spreading, as I ignored everyone’s advice about it when I planted it and have been amazed at its rapid growth in just the past two months. The basil has also grown like crazy and I’m thinking there will soon be enough to make purple pesto. This bed is probably the kids’ favorite since they can pluck a leaf off any of the plants for a quick bite whenever they walk by 🙂191146191147
  7. Finally, out front, we have a blackberry bush filling in the planter along the front wall! We are in the middle of blackberry season right now and Limerick makes sure to go outside at least twice a day to see if any more berries are ripe! There aren’t a ton of berries this year, but given the amount of new growth, next year’s crop is going to be insane. (And yes, that’s a tomato cage. I didn’t have any stakes and I wanted to encourage one of the main stalks to grow more vertically…)IMG_5399

How does your garden grow?

Head on over to This Ain’t the Lyceum for the rest of today’s linkup!

Posted in wwlw

what we’re learning wednesday, episode 9

Every spring, as part of her job as a math professor at the local community college, my mom goes to a math education conference and brings home all sorts of interesting books, games, and ideas. One of these was a set of playing cards containing the integers from -12 to 12 (two sets of -12 to 0 and two sets of 0 to 12), from Eureka Math. I can only find the cards sold in packs of 12, which isn’t very useful for a single family in terms of either quantity or price, but if you have an interested support group or co-op I’d definitely recommend them.

So far we’ve come up with two different games to play (neither of which is the game for which instructions are provided with the cards, though that also looks fun). First, we’ve been playing addition war, where whoever’s sum is closest to zero wins the round. Limerick picked up the concept of negative numbers really quickly – I introduced them with a number line while we were waiting for Rondel’s speech therapy, and he understood them and was picking up speed in figuring out the sums in our game of war by the end of the 45-minute session. Rondel is more visual and tactile than Limerick, and was struggling with the concept and calculations when they were presented that abstractly, so we made a large helpful number line that has really helped.

Unlike a traditional number line that runs horizontally, this one extends vertically, with negative numbers at the bottom and positive numbers at the top. So positive numbers are like steps up a mountain, while negative numbers are steps down into a hole underground. When we make the sums during war, Rondel knows that he can start with either number and count the number of steps either up (for a positive number) or down (for a negative number) to calculate the result. After a week or so of playing with this board every day, he’s now grasped the concept well enough to be able to figure out most of the sums completely in his head, just like Limerick.

The board also gave us an opportunity to develop another game using the Eureka Math integer cards, this one cooperative instead of competitive. Each of us starts out with one playing piece (a small animal counter, usually) on the zero tick in the center of the board. Taking turns, we draw one card at a time from the pile and move that number of steps from our current position. Every time someone goes off the board (28 or -28 – my tick marks are centimeters on standard printer paper) or lands exactly on 0, everyone gets a chocolate chip 🙂 The board is large enough that the amount of chocolate earned is fairly small, but small enough to keep everyone from getting frustrated. I usually end this game (to loud protests) when we’ve gone through the entire deck three times… more than that could lead to excessive amounts of chocolate and the concomitant hyper silliness 🙂

From what my mom says, negative numbers were apparently one of the more difficult mathematical concepts for me to grasp (along with distance-rate-time problems), though I don’t remember learning (or struggling with) them. So I’m glad that these two fairly simple tools have made them intuitive and fun for my kids.

Posted in autism acceptance month, sqt

autism and faith

This post is part of my april autism series for autism acceptance month. Visit the first post here for links to the rest of the series!

Because autism is a neurological difference that impacts the way a person perceives and makes sense of the world around them, it affects every part of an autistic person’s lived experience: from school and work, through friendships and marriage and parenting, to religion or lack thereof. For the seven quick takes linkup this week, I’ll be sharing seven thoughts connected to the autistic experience of faith: one study, three aspects of religion that may make faith more or less difficult for autistic individuals, and three essays from other autistic writers (two Christian, one not religious).

Don’t forget to visit Kelly at This Ain’t the Lyceum for the rest of the linkup!

  1. According to a study from Boston University, autistic individuals are more likely to be atheist or agnostic and less likely to belong to an organized religion. While a statistical study of this type cannot explore (and categorize, and analyze) all the various reasons that lead individuals to religious decisions, this particular study also coded several forums for various thinking traits and noted where they differed significantly between autistic and neurotypical populations. Perhaps not surprisingly, areas of difference included emphasis on rationality, social discomfort, and social disinterest. Let’s run with those areas of difference for a while.
  2. In modern Western culture, rationality, logic, and clear, critical thinking is most often associated with atheism or at least agnosticism. Autistic individuals are not exempt from the pull of those cultural associations – and it doesn’t help the cause of religion when it is publicly tied to pointless traditions and illogical, superstitious thinking. As a scientist, I see God’s glory shining brilliantly in the intricacies of biology (from the ecosystem level down to the molecular, everything so tightly bound together in ever-widening webs). I see it in the laws of logic and math that provide a pathway for understanding and explaining reality and truth. But if someone grew up being told that burying a statue in your backyard would help you sell your house faster, or that the whole Bible was intended to be read literally despite clear indications of allegory and myth (in the Lewisian version of the word), or that mental illness was a result of a lack of faith – that person would have a much harder time reconciling the beautiful logic of science with God. Since autistic individuals are on average significantly more likely to emphasize rationality in their thought processes, that difficulty would be compounded for an autistic person and be much more likely to end in a rejection of faith.
  3. Social discomfort is an aspect of the autistic lived experience of religion that might be missed from a neurotypical perspective – but it is certainly significant. There are weeks where simply staying in service on Sunday is a struggle for me, because of the anxiety surrounding the social environment. Even on a good week I typically avoid talking to anyone during the official greeting time, and an unwanted intrusion (read: friendly tactile greeting from happy neurotypical to poor sad girl sitting with her head down who must be lonely) can make the rest of the service almost unbearable. For someone entering a religious service from a different background, the discomfort, uncertainty, and anxiety can be even worse.
  4. Social disinterest is a related but distinct phenomenon. Many neurotypicals keep going to church because of the community they find there: the friends they make, the chance to catch up on what everyone is doing, the networking and small talk and friendly interactions. This is unlikely to be the case for an autistic individual (or at least it will be less of a factor). I go to church because it forces me to focus on worship and the Bible, and because I know intellectually (and believe from what the Bible says) that the community of faith is important in a spiritual and eternal sense. But I don’t draw energy or encouragement from any of the trivial small-talk that surrounds it. If an autistic person does choose to be part of  an organized religion, it is very likely that they actually believe it to be true, and are pursuing it despite the discomfort and disinterest of the social experience of it instead of using it as simply a source of friendship and community. I suppose that is a positive, actually. Believing in something really seems like the only rational reason to go through the actions religion necessitates.
  5. “Because that was always something that bothered me before university: I knew so many Christians who firmly believed that God’s works were the result of some kind of magic rather than science. It felt like intellectual dishonesty to agree with them, but I didn’t have the breadth of experience to know that I could disagree with other Christians and still be a ‘valid’ Christian myself.
    You see, I have always believed that science was God’s ‘computer’, or at least his OS. Just the same as how nobody designs a game without a playable set of rules, you wouldn’t create a universe without a decent set of physical laws, and a few handy mathematical constants.
    Honestly, the deeper I looked into mathematics and its uncompromising logic, the more I appreciated how beautifully God crafted the universe. Religion encourages us to find God’s amazing works in the mountains and rivers and sunsets, but if you have a mindset like mine and want to witness God’s glory, take a look at his OS.” – Chris Bonnello, Asperger Syndrome and Religion: Reconciling Logic with Faith
    Please read this whole article! It is a great outline of one autistic person’s reasons for faith and lived experience with religion, and hits on a lot of points that I’ve heard from other autistic people.
  6. This article by Brett Hanson touches less on the reasons to have faith and more on the religious experience of autistic individuals. Like Hanson, I find myself distracted from the overall point (and emotion) of a sermon or worship song because of an error in one small detail in that sermon or song. I realized in junior high that while I found it easy to meditate on and praise the life that we have in God, and the light that comes from God, it was harder for me to understand the love of God and feel it in an emotional way (looking back, I see that I didn’t feel or express things the same way my peers did, and so thought I must be missing something). It can make “fitting in” more difficult – but that attention to detail can push someone to deepen and broaden their theological knowledge, and that resistance to emotional sway can help someone ask hard questions and push for the truth when it might otherwise be obscured.
  7. Finally, this article by John Elder Robison is an excellent examination of historical reasons why autistic individuals may have poured themselves into the church, although the author is not himself religious. He sees in the texts of early church leaders the systematizing, logical thought processes of the autistic mind. In the great cathedrals, temples, and pyramids he sees evidence of autistic skills at work, intuitively grasping concepts that modern mathematics and engineering are still uncovering. As he writes, “[…] the church was as a bastion of structure, logic, and reason for its era. In those years, the church and the military were two places a young man could go to find order and rationality.  If you were a thinking sort of person, the church offered the kind of home some of us seek in universities and laboratories today.” 

My final thought would be that, ideally, the church would still be “a bastion of structure, logic, and reason.” God is equally the great engineer and scientist as He is the great artist and poet, is He not? So too church can be the pillar of logic, the laboratory of theological and philosophical inquiry, just as much as it can be the neighborhood block party or the safe space for sharing emotions and struggles.

Posted in musings

to the end

As the narrative of the gospel of John transitions from Jesus’s ministry into his final teachings before Passover (which in turn are the build up to His suffering, death, and resurrection), there stands one of my favorite verses in the whole Bible.

“Now before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” – John 13:1

With the end of Lent in sight now that Holy Week is at hand, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ends of things. So often I start with high ambitions and good intentions on a new and brightly fascinating idea, only to peter out into nothing before I complete anything (and oh, that phrase of unknown etymology calls up some interesting analogies here: the disciple who strode out on to the water in faith, only to end by sinking in doubt; who boldly proclaimed that he would never forsake Jesus, only to deny him three times not long after). The daily grind of discipline and maintenance required to see a task through to its end, after the shine has worn off and the hardship and tedium has set in, is not something that comes naturally to me (does it to anyone, really?). But eventually, the end comes. The deadline approaches – time runs out – what is left undone must still be called up and held accountable. At some point there is no “tomorrow” left to finish up the chores, to do something special with your child, to read the last chapter of your book, or to turn your heart towards God.

What do you want to be focusing on, when the end comes? What do you want to have finished, or to at least have put your best effort into? And if it is not what comes naturally, how can you give yourself the motivation and support you need to do what you truly, deeply, desire to do?

Jesus, here, was approaching the end, and he knew it, and he was most definitely not looking forward to it. The task he was about to complete was not a pleasant one. But as the end came, he held fast to the bright and beautiful idea that had started it all: he loved his people. Having loved them from the beginning, he loved them to the end. He would prove that love, on the cross, that great and terrible end towards which he was at this point rapidly proceeding.

And what happened then? He loved them to the end – the end of his earthly ministry, the end of his very life – and then he showed them, showed us, that the end is not final: that hope and redemption and life and restoration continue on. He loved us to the end – and his love did not end. Peter sank into the waves, and it could have been the end – but Jesus pulled him up onto the boat. Peter denied his Lord and Savior, and that could have been the end too – but Jesus forgave him, redeemed him, equipped him, and built the church upon his shoulders. He caught hold of that unending love, and it pulled him past the end and into the eternity awaiting.

I know what I want to be focused on, when Lent ends, when I end: that same unending love. I know what I want to have put my best effort into: leaving behind my vices and sins, into loving the people around me and fulfilling my responsibilities to them, into making my small corner of the world more beautiful and more illuminated by the light of heaven. And since it does not come naturally, most of the time? I pray that I might strive (for righteousness) and rest (in grace) both now and at the end: Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Like Peter, I stretch my hand over the raging waters to catch hold of the ever-strong grace and the never-ending love of Jesus.

Posted in autism acceptance month, sqt

{sqt} – seven senses: sensory processing struggles and strategies

This post is part of my april autism series for autism acceptance month. Visit the first post here for links to the rest of the series!

In autism – and a myriad of other neurological conditions – the brain struggles to interpret input accurately, either over- or under-responding to it. That then naturally leads to reactive behaviors that can cause difficulties in social interaction and everyday functioning. As this is a topic that a person could spend their whole life studying, I’m going to settle here for briefly describing each sense, a few potential symptoms of dysfunction, and one or two corresponding coping tools. Where possible, I’ll share from my own experience, both personally and with family and friends. Conveniently, there are seven senses – so I’m linking up with Kelly for seven quick takes today!

  1. Auditory: The auditory system is responsible for the recognition and interpretation of sounds. Auditory processing dysfunction is distinct from hearing loss itself, and can present as a difficulty in discrimination between similar sounds, extreme sensitivity to noise, or conversely the desire for more noise in the environment. I personally am fairly sensitive to sound – loud noises (like a crowd or a concert or a loud restaurant) make me physically tense, a day with the kids will leave my ears literally throbbing, and I struggle to focus at work without some way to eliminate the irrelevant sounds around me. For a while I was jealous of Rondel’s over-ear headphones from the church special needs ministry, but a few months ago I started using Vibes ear plugs and have found it makes a significant difference. Reducing the amount of incoming sound reduces my brain’s automatic overreaction, and thus reduces my anxiety and tension from the music at church, increases my emotional margin as a parent, and helps me work with more efficiency and focus. I can’t eat with them in, but I can have conversations without significant loss of clarity, and for the help they give me it’s definitely worth it; I highly recommend them.Ear+Plug-21
  2. Visual: As with the auditory system, visual processing is different than vision itself. For example, I have always had poor eyesight, but do not struggle with visual processing at all. People who do have visual processing dysfunction may find it difficult to keep their place while reading, distinguish between similar shapes/letters/numbers (as in dyslexia), find a specific object out of a group (like searching for Legos or puzzle pieces). Rondel has some difficulties with the visual aspects of reading, writing, and math – he reads backwards, flips or inverts letters and numbers, has trouble figuring out what word or problem comes next, and quickly shows signs of fatigue (slowing down, rubbing his eyes, etc.). After his preschool evaluation raised a red flag, we went to a optometry and vision therapy office and were prescribed a pair of magnifying glasses that help him a lot, so I’d recommend going to a professional if you suspect processing difficulties here. There are exercises that can help, but they typically require more knowledgeable guidance.
  3. Touch: The body has five different types of touch receptors: light touch, deep touch/pressure, heat, cold, and pain. Someone with tactile processing dysfunction could therefore be sensitive with regards to some of these receptors and not with others – or even by over-sensitive to some and under-responsive to others! This can manifest as very particular requirements for clothing (tight, loose, cotton, no tags, certain textures, etc.); dislike of being touched by other people; desire to stroke objects that feel certain ways; avoidance of messy play as a child; dislike of hair cuts, hair washing, and tooth brushing; engaging in potentially self-injurious behavior like scratching and head-banging; and so on. Personally, I am fairly normal with regards to heat, cold, and pain, but am very over-reactive to both light and deep touch. Something trivial that rubs me the wrong way (literally!) can bother me for hours – whether it is a hand on my shoulder at church, the grate of cutting a frozen strawberry or the pilling on an old shirt. And I am always slightly uncomfortably aware of everything I’m wearing, even my favorite and most accommodating clothes. What helps here? As far as I can tell, wearing clothes I can tolerate and choosing the most comfortable outfit possible for the situation – even when that means changing multiple times a day – helps a lot to minimize the strain. Having a fidget cube, clips, sticky tape, or some other texture to occupy my hands is also helpful – it distracts from other sensations and helps my system regulate emotionally and physically.

    fidgetcube
    The smooth ball and sharp gears are my favorite!
  4. Smell: People who are over-sensitive to smell will notice and be bothered by (or enjoy, it’s not all bad) smells that most people acclimate to or don’t notice in the first place. I have to leave the room and sometimes the house because of my husband’s personal care products – and he doesn’t even use cologne so nothing is supposed to be that scented (he doesn’t even smell his deodorant, and while he can smell the chapstick he isn’t bothered by it). There are certain people and places I struggle to enjoy being near simply because of the way they smell, because my body doesn’t adjust to it. Similarly, Rondel is very bothered by the smell of certain foods, even foods he likes to eat, and we’ve found that at those times it is helpful to light a candle (unscented or with a light scent we all enjoy) at the table to neutralize the aromas of the food.
  5. Taste: The stereotype of autistic individuals being extremely picky eaters comes from the frequency of sensory processing difficulties involving both taste and touch (the texture of food can be even more problematic than its taste for many people). Rondel and I can taste the differences between brands of the same food, sometimes disliking one while loving the other, and sometimes just needing time to incorporate the new brand into our mental repertoire. Some people, whose brains over-react to taste, might prefer bland or soft food; others might crave very hot, cold, spicy, or salty foods. For people with extreme reactions, it can be very difficult to even try new foods, since the potential physical response can be so unsettling. It doesn’t mean they are being difficult or resistant to change – they just have a very good reason to expect a new food to be an unpleasant experience. I do try to have Rondel taste new foods – but only at dinner, and only if I have reasonable cause to believe his sensory system won’t overreact to it (I’m never going to try to make him eat mashed squash at Thanksgiving, for instance). I also try to keep as many healthy and sensorily-acceptable options available as possible, so he doesn’t fall back on things like chips 🙂
  6. Proprioception: This is the body’s sense of itself and where it is in space. An individual who struggles with proprioception may run into things, hold things too tightly (potentially breaking them), kick and stomp, constantly climb on or hang from things, or play too roughly. What’s helpful here is to provide the deep touch and heavy activity that helps the brain identify the body clearly: to jump on a trampoline, to wrestle, to give bear hugs, and to lift, push, or pull heavy objects. Regulating the proprioceptive system that way can help calm someone who is anxious or upset, or can help prepare the body and brain for quiet focused activities that don’t stimulate the body enough for the dysfunctional proprioception to fully engage. In a way this is a lot like what all young children need – this is a system that takes time to develop, like the visual system, and dysfunction may not be apparent until a child is older.
  7. Vestibular: This system handles the brain’s perception and understanding of the body’s movements. So an under-responsive vestibular system will lead to cravings for wild, constant movement: spinning, swinging, fast and crazy amusement park rides, flipping upside down, and generally never holding still. Conversely, an over-responsive vestibular system may present as over-caution, a fear of heights, dislike of swings or rope ladders at the park, or a preference for sedentary activities (which can then lead to social struggles, unfortunately, as children can be mean to other children they perceive as “wimpy” or scared). Letting someone hold onto you when they are anxious about an activity that taxes their vestibular system can provide both physical and emotional support and give them a chance to experience something that would be challenging or impossible without that support (I’ve gotten to be that support several times and it is definitely a privilege) – but from what I’ve read there isn’t an easy solution here. Some things will improve with age and others may benefit from occupational therapy.

Links for additional reading:

Do you struggle with any aspects of sensory processing? What tools or techniques have been most helpful for you?