Max and I are both adjusting to our new normal since he was withdrawn from school two weeks ago. It’s both wonderful and difficult with peaks and valleys by the minute some days. We’re working really hard to establish a routine in our quest to find the perfect balance of structured activity and time to allow learning to happen organically.
The first week he was home, we went to Target. I made him a Target page on his communication device and in an effort to encourage more consistent use, if he requested something from his page, it went in the cart. We had quite the collection of his favorite snacks by the time we left, but it turned out to be a really great way to reinforce the impact that his talker has on getting his needs and wants understood and met. Target trips won’t be this bountiful all the time, but for now, this is how we’re incorporating more communication in a way that yields a quick reward.
Oreos are one of his favorite snacks. Would I prefer apples or carrots? Of course. But Oreos work for him. The texture, the crunch, the perfectly round shape. And one could argue that it’s hereditary – those delightful little cookies don’t stand a chance with his Gramps!
I wasn’t surprised when on our trip down the snack aisle, he picked a package off of the shelf. Unlike the rest of the items that he threw behind him into the cart, the Oreo package remained on his lap. When we got to the checkout, he was absolutely distraught that items were being taken out of our cart and placed on the belt. It became a scene. The sweet woman behind the checkout counter rushed to help get us out of there as quickly as she could, making sure she gave the Oreos right back to him, as it was clear he was especially frustrated that they had to leave him to be scanned.
Once safely returned to his lap, that bright blue package traveled securely with him to the car. And then with him in his car seat to our next errand. The Oreos came with him through the next parking lot, through the next store and back to the car. Not a single cookie was consumed. But periodically, that package was opened with a pair of big blue eyes peering inside…just to make sure all were accounted for.
They traveled with him in the stroller to pick up his big brother from school that day, back home for our typical after school routine, and they finally landed in a carefully selected spot on the dining room table.
There they were in all of their Family Size Oreo Cookie package glory. And in Max’s mind, that’s where they would stay. Not to be touched by anyone but him. Even his dad who was excited at the prospect of a tasty after school snack…only until he was chastised by his four-year-old. He quickly put the cookies back.
I thought about this whole Oreo exchange. While cute…ish, I knew this was deeper than simply being attached to cookies. Max is navigating a lot of unfamiliar situations right now with more demands being placed on him regarding communication. It’s conceivable to think that he feels very little control over much of anything. That’s hard.
Lightbulb. Oreos are a comfort. They’re predictably delicious, neatly organized into three rows, and in a shiny, familiar, bright blue package. They can be carried, he always knows where they are, and he gets to control the who, what, when, where and why. Some people have emotional support animals, others people or items…same premise.
We headed back to Target today and I had an idea that would hopefully help us avoid the checkout line meltdown while also helping Max feel like he was in control. I’m certainly not the first parent to use this strategy, but it dawned on me after repeatedly replaying our last trip in my head.
As predicted, Max requested Oreos on his talker again. We headed for that aisle and grabbed a package. Consistent with our last trip, those Oreos settled in for the rest of our trip, nestled in Max’s lap. This time, however, I grabbed a second package and placed it in the cart. When we got to the checkout, I placed the second package on the conveyor belt, kindly asked the clerk to scan that one and then put it aside, as we only needed one package…the one in Max’s lap. She graciously complied and we made it through an entire trip to Target without a meltdown. He didn’t give a flying hoot about any of the other items in our cart. He cared about the Oreos.
Max’s prize possession was safely deposited when we got home – this time on the kitchen table. All was well in his world. Until Fletcher got home from school and helped himself.
So next time, maybe we will buy both packages. One clearly labeled for Max’s discretion and the other for public consumption. Either way, I’m reminded about the importance of providing opportunities for control and predictability – especially during a time of significant change. As an adult with the ability to articulate my needs, wants and fears, I certainly appreciate having control – especially during times of uncertainty. The same courtesy should be afforded to our kids, even if it looks different. In our case, like a package of Oreos.
During times of uncertainty, may you and yours find your Oreos. <3
***Visual supports, such as visual schedules are another way to help littles organize around what’s coming next and what to expect – giving them control in a different sense. We LIVE by visual schedules. In many situations, visual schedules reduce or completely eliminate meltdowns because the minds of Fletcher and Max have time to organize around what’s happening and what’s expected of them. It’s magic for us. That’s a whole post on its own…coming soon***