This morning, Alex and I were preparing for a day at the Bronx Zoo. “Alex,” I said, “bring your animals. Bring all of them.” Into the backpack tumbled the detailed plastic zebra, gorilla, giraffe, lions (male and female), and tiger.

These hard plastic figures about four or five inches long or tall (except the giraffe), with detailed painted faces and molded texture. Alex has all the animals mentioned above, plus a butterfly, a couple of chickens, assorted less-detailed barnyard critters from cheaper sets, and elephants in three sizes (and three different moods, judging from the open roaring mouths and raging tusks). Sometimes the makers of these toys will sell the same animal in several poses; you can, for instance, buy a cougar merely walking or a cougar with one paw raised and claws extended. They go for about $8 a pop.

Alex almost got the cougar a few weeks ago in a hobby store, except on the way to the registers he ripped off the tag and anyway he’d gotten a giraffe or something just a day before. “Bear? Bear?” Alex kept calling the cougar. We would correct him. “Bear? Bear?” he’d say again.

Alex has had buying jags before (no, now that you mention it: jaguars has never been one of the animals he buys). Books in bookstores, chocolate bars in grocery stores. He’s also had jags of lining up the stuff he buys, such as Scrabble letters. Once he lined up the Scrabble letters to spell “L-I-Q-U-O-R-S”, and another time he lined them up to spell “B-R-O-N-X Z-O-O.”

“Alex, bring your animals! Bring them all!”

I figured, what a chance! Hold the realistic plastic animal up to the glass and see the real thing right behind it! Don’t tell me I’m not a good autism dad!

It didn’t, however, ignite as I thought it might. He liked Tiger Mountain — amazing how BIG those cats are — but the gorillas and the elephants and the giraffes weren’t nearly as interesting to Alex as the “Paper! Paper!” he kept wanting. Turns out this was a zoo map, as I learned when we passed an information booth.

So how deep does Alex’s animal attraction run? He did select only the plastic tiger from his backpack to hold with the map on the subway ride home. And in the coffee shop, he insisted on every animal on the table, with the map, over his chicken fingers. How deep does Alex’s animal attraction run? Who can say, as usual?

* *  *

Toys for children with autism, from Autism Behavior Strategies.

1. Elmo (sadly) remains a favorite. Maybe it’s just a comforting habit now; he doesn’t seem riveted the way he did when he was younger.

Photo by Kitten Fleming

2. Chocolate chip cookies. (Never-fail recipe secret here!) Equally enthusiastic about homemade and freshly baked or dusty old Chips Ahoy.

3. Prefers homemade brownies. The first time he had them, on Christmas Eve about four years ago, he followed me around for about an hour saying, “Brownie? Brownie? Brownie?” (Note: After several different recipes, I’ve settled on the sublime Katharine Hepburn brownies with an added half-teaspoon of almond extract.)

4. The part of “Arthur’s Pet Business” where Arthur’s baby sister Kate wails. Loudly. He loves to rewind to this part. Sometimes I hide that tape for a few wail-free hours. It is permanently seared into my brain.

5. Have a hardcover book with dust jacket? Alex will thoughtfully separate them for you. (He’ll also slip the bookmark out, so I’ve gotten in the habit of glancing at the page number.) If it’s a library book and the jacket is in the plastic slipcase glued to the book, Alex will rip it off. I don’t know why he does this. Usually he looks for things that go together and reassembles them (like slices of watermelon).

6. Bathtime. Warm water, splashing, no one to bug him (we’re usually watching TV while he bathes) — what’s not to love?

7. Alex loves repetition and predictability. A bookstore provides both in the form of endless shelves of similarly shaped objects and copies of his old favorites, which he revisits for a satisfying hour or so.

8. The epitome of order and routine — with accessible shelves of books to boot — school is such a favorite place that Alex often stops at the locked doors of whatever school he happens to be passing on weekends and holidays.

9. We might be going to a suburban supermarket, a Westchester museum or Stew Leonard’s. Alex is always up for a car  ride. (We occasionally rent from Zip Car.)

10. Sometimes it’s the farm yard assortment of ducks, cows, chickens, geese; other times lions and tigers and elephants entice him. Either way, plastic animals remain a source of great attraction.

By human standards, our cat Toast is autistic.

Consider:

- She’s unable to understand directions. Fails consistently to respond to such clear commands as “Get off the table!”, or

“Don’t go in the bedroom!” condition seems to be beyond willfulness, and a genuine lack of comprehension.

- Sometimes unusually difficult to toilet-train (see “live independently”)

- Doesn’t clearly articulate needs and desires. Seems to want to be petted, then scurries away. Rubs against the base of

the kitchen counters before mealtimes in an obvious stimming activity rather than just come out and ask for dinner.

Frustrating: If only the language would emerge, our whole concept of Toast would change.

- Loves being brushed.  Again, stimming? Rubs her lips against the comb in obvious oral fixation.

- Sleeps poorly. Often up at all hours. Doesn’t hesitate to disturb the household, especially in the hour before breakfast.

- Has frequent “stop and stares,” and seems spellbound by simple objects like rolling balls or a peacock feather dragged under the bedspread.

- Eats a very limited diet. Will not eat vegetables or any crunchy foods, especially out of the box, though has learned to come when box is shaken.

- Is indifferent to social conventions. Will lick herself right in the middle of the floor during parties.

- Doesn’t know where she is in space. Often skids into walls or falls off the windowsill.

- Will probably never be able to hold a job. May someday live independently (see “toilet training”).

Which pets are best for autism? Check here.

Our cat, Toast, has an uneasy place in our household. She’s not that nice. She’s somewhat aloof (except at mealtime) - but she needed a home, and we needed a cat, and she found us, so that’s that.

We all have different opinions. Jeff and I aren’t that enthusiastic about Toast mostly because of some incidents where she’s peed on our bed. Ned really likes her and carries her around and brushes her and gives her treats. Alex ignores her most of the time. Now and then when we first got her (if you can call allowing a cat who walked through your front door to stay “got her”) he’d reach out and push her. This was possibly, according to one of his therapists, a way of amusing himself by making her move. “He can make her go, almost like a toy,” she explained.

These days, Alex leaves her alone. Unless she’s on one of our tables (coffee or dining room). If so, he never fails to reach over and attempt to get her off. For months we thought he just didn’t like her that much and couldn’t resist the chance to express a little disdain. But the other day it hit me. Almost every night, Toast jumps on the table while we’re eating. And we hate this, and we’ve told her so.

And I think Alex has heard us screaming at her to get OFF THE TABLE while we’re eating - and he’s thinking, There’s that cat on the table. They keep telling her to get down. Well, I’ll make her get down.

We used to tell him to leave her alone, but now I think Alex has the right idea. It took me a while to figure it out, since Alex is often very clearsighted about something we’re missing, but now I agree. That cat should  never be on the table.

Image: Jill Cornfield

A St. Paul family is suing after the school district decided to bar Newman, their son’s service dog, from his public school, Como Park Elementary. Newman, a Golden Retriever, is connected to 8-year-old Wally LaBerge throughout the day via a harness, yesterday’s WCCO notes. While service dogs have been more and more widely used to assist autistic children, there’s been more than a little disagreement about their presence in public places, from schools to airplanes to apartments. It’s noted that the dogs are calming and help to allay anxieties: Until it’s widely understood how much a service dog can help an autistic child, they’ll be more of these sorts of disputes, and more anxiety, and antagonism.

And not enough learning on either side.

Some “treatments for autism” that have recently made the news:

Magnets, in a method called transcranial magnetic stimulation; a study is be published this month in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders by neuroscientist Manuel Casanova.

Horseback therapy that is to “restart the development of the left side of the brain,” at Spirit Horse Therapy in Corinth, Texas.

At the risk of sounding like an über-cynic—and not to deny that results can be seen from the above—have to say I’m wondering what remains to be tried.

Rainbow is a parrot: Last week he was stolen from his owner, Mitchell Chareunsouk, of Sacramento. Mitchell and his family are asking for the safe of Rainbow. From KERO 23:

“Every time (Mitchell) sees the picture, he cries, and he doesn’t want to eat,” Toune Chareunsouk said.

Mitchell got Rainbow three years ago and would like to see his best friend again.

“It’s not fair. What if someone stole your best friend?” Mitchell said.

Bev at Asperger Square 8 is offering a reward for the return of Rainbow:

If you live in the Sacramento area and know anything about this, please contact me. Asperger Square 8 is offering a reward for the safe return of Rainbow to the Chareunsouk family.

To the person who took the parrot: Please reconsider. Parrots bond very strongly with their people, and Rainbow will be miserable without Mitchell. If you were planning to sell this parrot, know that Rainbow’s picture is being widely distributed. If you have purchased the bird from someone, please contact me and I will arrange to get your money back when the parrot has been positively identified as Rainbow by the Chareunsouks.

And any parrot lovers, and any persons, with an interest in autism who can contribute to the reward funds for Rainbow’s return, please email Bev—-let’s bring Rainbow back home.

As if I needed another reason for not taking Charlie to McDonald’s: The November 12th Scientific American gives the not-so-skinny on what’s inside the beef that the likes of the Golden Arches, Burger King, and Wendy use to make their burgers:

Corn.

Further:

If you thought you were eating mostly grass-fed beef when you bit into a Big Mac, think again: The bulk of a fast-food hamburger from McDonald’s, Burger King or Wendy’s is made from cows that eat primarily corn, or so says a new study of the chemical composition of more than 480 fast-food burgers from across the nation.

And it isn’t only cows that are eating corn. There is also evidence of a corn diet in chicken sandwiches, and even French fries get a good slathering of the fat that makes them so tasty from being fried in corn oil.

…….

“Instead of eating a predominantly whole grains, fruits and vegetables, we are diverting the grain supply to feeding the animals,” says [preventive medicine physician Bob Lawrence, director of the Center for a Livable Future at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health], arguing for a diet that treats meat as a garnish rather than the main course and corn for human consumption rather than cows. “Corn-finished beef does add to what has become a preferred taste for the American palate. We’ve acquired that taste at our own peril.”

On the other hand, maybe Charlie’s already onto this. These days, he’s just as likely to say “no” when asked about eating at McDonald’s as he is to say “yes.” Guess he knows what’s good for him, and what not.

That is, yes, we can now drive past the Golden Arches and not have to make a fast dash for fries. Change is always possible.

The West Side News reports on the benefits of hipportherapy for disabled children; a friend’s daughter started this sport some months ago and has been enjoying it:

….[hipportherapy's] techniques involve more than just putting a child in saddle and walking him around a riding ring.

Participants ride forward, backwards, and sideways in an effort to strengthen different muscle groups and experience the horse’s movements differently.

Something tells me you can horseback ride on a Wii, or not?

I’ve been teaching some of my Latin students how to scan Latin poetry—-how to figure out the meter by identifying long and short syllables, elisions of vowels, when there’s a pause for a breath (caesura). One student commented that he likes scanning more than translating and it is a different sort of way of dealing with a language, looking at the sounds and syllables of words and not so much their meanings.

I talk about scanning as attending to the music of the poetry, to its sounds, more than to its sense. I’ve often noted that Charlie’s always had an affinity for music. That’s the impetus behind efforts to teach him to play the piano and the cello. While Charlie’s long struggled to learn to read words, he figured out how to read notes and the basics of sheet music (for both instruments) quite easily. He and Jim have an ever-growing repertoire of call and response songs and I’ve often been able to figure out what Charlie is saying (he doesn’t always fully articulate his syllables) by the intonation, pitch, and rhythm of his voice. I’ve also noted that he often seems to figure out what we’re saying based as much on those musical qualities.

The October Scientific American has a brief overview of a Jaunuary letter in Nature, on ultra-fine frequency tuning revealed in single neurons of human auditory cortex. It seems that human’s brains are “wired” to hear fine discriminations of sound, down to the 12th of an octave.

The study revealed that groups of exquisitely sensitive neurons exist along the auditory nerve on its way from the ear to the auditory cortex. In these neurons natural sounds, such as the human voice, elicit a completely different and far more complex set of responses than do artificial noises such as pure tones. In this mixed environ ment humans can easily detect frequencies as fine as one twelfth of an octave—a half step in musical terminology.

The vexing question is: Why? Bats are the only mammal with a better ability to hear changes in pitch than humans do. Predatory species such as dogs are not nearly as sensitive—they can dis criminate resolutions of one third of an octave. Even our primate relatives do not come close: macaques can resolve only half an octave. These results suggest the fine discrimination of sound is not a necessity for survival.

It’s been several months since Charlie had his last piano lesson when his teacher moved away and we don’t practice nearly as much as we used to. Nonetheless, after a little warming up, Charlie’s pretty much back in sync with reading and playing. One of the last things his teacher taught him was to read and play sharps; Charlie caught on easily to this, and often correct himself if he plays a natural note when there’s a sharp, and quickly moves his finger to play the black key a half-step up.

There’s been a lot said and studied about the effects of studying music and playing instruments on children’s learning and intelligence. I don’t have any hard data, but certainly music’s been a key tool for communicating, teaching, and understanding with Charlie, and he with us. I know he can hear a 12th of an octave and this further leads me to note that Charlie hears everything said around him, and that (as we constantly have to remind those who don’t know him) understands most everything he hears. He’s a much better listener than some might think.

(And, perhaps, than many of us who don’t have any “communication disabilities.”)