Shadow Dancing

I love summer. The trees and grass are green, the flowers are in bloom, the air is warm and the kids play outside. Having four children over run a small home can feel like living in a shoebox. Everywhere you turn, a child is running, hopping, or twirling by. During the summer, you just open the door and out they go, taking all that energy with them. There were balls to throw, a private area of woods to hike, and creative minds to use. Sometimes we played with them, sometimes we sat exhausted in our chairs and just watched. Tom worked 3rd shift and I worked 2nd shift. Our jobs could be physically and mentally draining. Children can be physically and mentally draining as well. We grabbed the chance to sit down whenever we could.

And so it was one of those bright, sunny days where we were all outside. The older boys were actively engaged in some game devised to torture their sister, Tom and I were sitting in the shade on our old deck and Matt was in the sunlight twirling. We noticed his usual twirl had evolved into a dance of bending, stretching, lying down on his back - legs straight in the air, and then quickly jumping to his feet and stretching again. The dance was so elaborate that it had to mean something. We watched as he repeated the sequence. We had a new mystery to be solved.

We put our chairs closer to the edge of the deck, hoping to get a better view. Matt twirled. He loved to spin. He would twirl himself until dizzy and then just fall to the ground. A few seconds later he stood up - and very precisely arranged his arms and legs and glanced at the ground behind him. Each time the dance move changed, he looked behind himself at the ground. Ah ha! He was watching his shadow!

We started watching his shadow. The first few moves left us puzzled. Then we saw it! The letter "C", then the letter "D", followed by the letter "E". Matt was using the bright sunlight to cast a shadow alphabet. We couldn't turn away - mesmerized by his precision. When he reached the letter "W", he laid down on the ground, stuck his feet straight in the air and pulled the crotch of his shorts upward. We busted out laughing. What a . . . creative (?) way to show a "W".

We knew Matt was learning the alphabet, but we had no idea he was so creative in his thinking. Autistic children are said to have no independent thinking, no creativity. Yea, right. What do you call this beautiful expression of letters? Matt was 4 years old and he didn't speak. Most kids his age were singing the alphabet. He couldn't sing, so he danced.

Sarah wandered over, disgusted with her 2 older brothers who were picking on her. Jacob and Christopher were boys and Sarah was a girl and girls can't be in their club, can't play combat games, or hang with them. They had a boys club - no girls allowed. Tormenting their little sister was an ongoing mission at their age. So Sarah trudged over to where we were and watched Matt. Always one to jump in, Sarah walked up close to Matt (but far enough away to give him space) and asked Matt to do his alphabet again. She watched and learned. Soon, Sarah was doing the shadow dance right along with him. He would glance at her now and again, but he continued.

The other boys were curious. Sarah never came back. How could they possibly torture her if she didn't fall into their trap, and return begging to be allowed to play? Their plan foiled, they slowly made their way over and stared at their sister and Matt dancing in the sun. They looked at us quizzically. We explained what was happening and told them to wait for the "W". When the letter "W" arrived, Matt and Sarah dropped to the ground, feet in the air, Matt pulling on his crotch, Sarah (whose shorts were too tight for that), trying to improvise using her hand. We all burst out laughing and continued to the point of tears. You might say, "a good time has had by all . . .".

Everyone was curious. Everyone wanted to communicate with Matt. Watching him shadow dance was like seeing the SOS scrawled on a beach from high overhead in a plane. Matt was sending us signals.

I wish I could express adequately how it felt each time a myth about autism was crushed to dust. The list at the time Matt was diagnosed included inappropriate laughter and crying (debunked), no creative play (debunked) no communication skills (debunked). What do experts know? They see the child for 30 minutes to an hour each visit. Parents watch and listen all day - every day. My advise to you? Look for it. Watch. Listen. The autistic child is feeling and communicating.

A parent's job is to decode the signals. And believe me, the joy of having broken just one code will be enough to sustain you until you break the next one.