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Eight Car-Travel Tips For Autism Families

2012-06-22 10.45.12

I am very fortunate to have a child with autism who is a good traveler. We haven’t braved planes with him yet, but he does very well on public transportation and in the car. Even so, we have to put careful planning into lengthy drives to ensure that he stays safe and happy, and that the rest of the family survives with all their wits intact.

1. Make sure the child locks are engaged. Most neurotypical kids are aware of the dangers of opening the car door while the car is in motion. A kid with autism might tug on the door handle just to see what happens, without regard for the possible consequences. If you don’t know how to set the child locks, read the manual. If you’re in the market for a new car, check it out for safety features with your special needs child in mind.

2. Kids who have trouble with car travel should be eased into it gradually. If your child cannot get as far as the grocery store without melting down, don’t plan a road trip to the other end of the country. Experiment with a few trips of 30 minutes or so. During those trips, try different activities and snacks, until you figure out what works.

3. If you’re going on a long trip, plan your route to include stops at parks or play areas. We all benefit from getting out of the car and moving around from time to time, and it’s good for all kids to expend their energy. For kids with autism, there is an added consideration: those who are sensory-seeking may have a particularly difficult time sitting still in a car, so those activity breaks are often a necessity for them.

4. Some kids with autism cannot tolerate bright light. You might be able to make the trip a lot easier by investing in a shade for the window beside your child. The shades are easily applied with suction cups, and you might be able to leave it to your child to decide whether they are open or closed.

5. When deciding what to bring with you, stick with what you know your child likes. Buying a new toy especially for the trip may backfire. If your child stims by repeatedly stacking eight identical pieces of Lego, bring them along. If he reads the same book over and over, don’t leave that book at home. New stuff might create anxiety and frustration, whereas comfort can be found in the familiar items.

6. If you are planning to hit the road at night with the hope that your child will sleep, follow the usual bedtime routine immediately before you leave. It may still be a little disruptive, but your child will at least be geared for the idea of going to sleep. You may even get away with putting a smaller child to bed and then carrying him to the car once he’s gone to sleep.

7. Be prepared for the possibility of meltdowns. It can happen to the most accomplished of car travelers. If you use reinforcers (in our case, gummy bears), bring along a good supply. Think of your usual strategies for containing or diffusing meltdowns, and consider how you can modify them for use in a moving car (if you can stop, great – but you may not be able to pull over right away).

8. Don’t be 100% focused on the needs of your child with autism. The truth is that no matter how well prepared you are, unexpected things can happen. If you have taken the time to make sure everyone in the car has what they need for an enjoyable trip, the overall ambiance will be a lot more relaxed. That can make the world of difference to the child with autism, and to everybody else who is on the trip.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle, published in accordance with my disclosure policy. Photo credit to the author.

 

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Things that go snip-snip in the night

I felt very weird last night, sneaking around my in my own house in the dark, hiding not one, but two pairs of scissors behind my back. I was dressed like a burglar: black shirt, black pants – both tight-fitting to avoid the tell-tale sound of rustling clothing.  In the interests of being as quiet as possible, I was in my stockinged feet.  I could not risk turning the lights on: I had to rely solely on the moonlight coming in through the open window.  I would have worn a balaclava, but since all I was doing was cutting my son’s hair, that probably would have been overkill.

Like most children with autism, George has sensory issues.  He cannot tolerate wearing shirts with collars. He will not eat something if he doesn’t know how it will feel in his mouth.  He stims by running around manically and jumping, jumping, jumping, to send as much deep pressure as possible through his body.  When he’s upset he tries to calm himself by banging his head (not something we allow, for obvious reasons).  He wore pull-ups for about a year after he was toilet-trained because he liked the way they felt.

And he wears a hat.  I suspect that the hat serves a dual purpose.  It creates a slight feeling of pressure around his head that gives him a sense of security, and it discourages people from touching his head.  Now, George doesn’t mind being touched.  He enjoys exchanging hugs with people he trusts, and he seeks the kind of games where you chase him, wrestle him to the floor, and tickle him.  He is always asking me or his Dad to scratch his back.  But he hates having his head touched.  His reaction to being touched on the head ranges from quiet but unmistakable discomfort (for light fleeting pats on the head) to out-and-out screaming, kicking panic (for hair-washing and haircuts).

I have a confession to make: I don’t brush my son’s hair.  I have so many other battles to contend with where his hair is concerned, and frankly, I don’t want him to start every day on such a negative note.  I know that the day will come when I will have to revise this policy, but for now my focus has to be on helping him overcome this issue he has. I cannot just go in with hairbrush a-blazin’ and expect him to be OK with it.  Fortunately, his hair has lost much of its toddlerhood curl and tendency to tangle, so he can get away with it not being brushed.  Besides, the ever-present hat tends to flatten the hair into submission.

However, George’s hair is still somewhat unruly.  The unruliness combined with the fact that I cannot give him proper deep, scalp-massaging hair-washes (hairwashing – a regular event that is fraught with trauma for the entire family) means that George’s hair has to be cut fairly frequently.  But since the sight of scissors coming anywhere near his head would send him into a state that he wouldn’t recover from for weeks, I have to cut his hair at night, when he is asleep.

Hence the dramatic sneaking-around-with-scissors behaviour.  When George goes to bed, I have to wait until he is in a deep sleep.  I have to make myself as invisible as possible, so he doesn’t hear, see or feel my presence.  I sneak silently up to his bed and reassure myself that yes, he is asleep, and that no, he probably won’t wake up anytime soon.  I swoop in – silently, of course – and cut whichever bits of hair I have easy access to.  Between cuts, the scissors are hidden.  I cannot take a chance on George waking up and seeing me there with scissors.  It sometimes takes up to a week to complete a haircut, because what I can do is completely dependant on how George is lying.  So the poor kid invariably spends a few days with his hair looking a bit patchy.

If the haircutting for the night has gone well, I don’t stop there.  I put down the haircutting scissors and pick up the second pair of scissors that I have brought along for the excursion.  I pick up one of George’s hands and experimentally run my finger along his nails.  If he stirs, I leave well enough alone – it is a sign that his sleep is not deep enough for me to proceed.  If he doesn’t react, I pick the longest nails and cut them – another task that George will not tolerate during his waking hours (I suspect that this stems from a babyhood incident in which I accidentally nicked one of his fingers).  Like the haircutting, it can take several days to cut George’s full set of fingernails.  Fortunately, I never have to bother with the toenails – George has the same brittle toenails that I do; they break off during regular day-to-day activity.

Someday all of George’s personal grooming tasks will be done during daylight hours, without any subterfuge on my part.  Getting there will take time, though.  It will require gentle desensitization, social stories, a regimen of reinforcements and rewards.  And lots of patience.

And love.  Never forget the love.