He was so excited to see me again that he ran out onto the road and stood beside my car waiting for me to get out. As soon as I was out, Matthew grabbed me by the hand and dragged me as fast as he could to the front door. He flung it open and proceeded to take to through the house, room by room, telling me in his own kind of gibberish what or whose the room was and special things in it. Once the tour was completed he was about to start it again when his mother stepped in and said it was enough.
At this time Matthew was 4 years old, but he was not like most other children. Although his mother was having difficulty getting doctors to give her a written diagnosis of his medical conditions, to anyone who knew about autism, epilepsy, and global development delay, knew that he had these conditions and more. Matthew was a solidly built boy with strength beyond his years. Yet his speech was so limited that in listening to a whole story of babble most people could only ever understand one or two words, and that was if they understood anything at all.
Yet on that particular day, for reasons I will never understand, Matthew and I just clicked. He wanted hugs and kisses, and for me to play with him and his toys. We built towers with Duplo blocks which he knocked down with absolute glee. I drew pictures for him to colour, and he scribbled them out and did his drawings and coloured them in. One picture he drew was on himself and me with a cake. We also enjoyed many other activities together.
But how do you understand someone who knows what he wants to say but can’t say it? One way is to listen carefully for patterns in what he says, then tell him what you think he said. If you get it right you got a cheer and yes, but heaven forbid if you got it wrong. The reaction could range from a plain no, to growling and shaking his head, right up to hitting you and running away crying. So as you can imagine it is a very delicate matter.
As the weeks went by and I continued visiting Matthew, I was able to understand him more and more. His anger and frustration level went down, and our fun and communication increased. I thought I was getting along really well with Matthew on this one particular day, when all of a sudden he said, “You’re poo!” Then ran away laughing.
I was left scratching my head and very confused. Why would this loving and lovely little boy who was getting along with me so well say such a nasty thing to me? It was quite incomprehensible. A little bit stunned and not sure what to do, I found his mother and asked her if he had called anyone else that. “Oh, yes!” was her reply, “But he only says it to people he likes.” She went on further to explain that due to his poor speech ability he found it hard to get people to talk with and interact to him. He had discovered that if you call someone “poo” you definitely get a interaction.
Over the next few weeks Matthew called me “poo” time and time again. Sometimes I would pretend to be shocked, much to his glee. Then one day I told him that I was not “poo”, but he was. With only a moment’s hesitation he came back with, “Then you wees! Ha, Ha you wet!” He had once more achieved his goal and shocked me.
Matthew’s speech is very slowly improving, but our game of calling each other “poo” continues.
Until next time – remember, safety first!