Non Verbal Communication 101

The outward excitement that exuded from our 4 year old as we started on our “adventure” to The Great Wolf Lodge was obvious to all around. Anyone could hear it in his voice, see it on his face and watch it in his actions.

Understanding what our other son was thinking and feeling about this adventure was another story. As parents of a nonverbal child with autism we depend on “reading” his non verbal communication in every circumstance. It is vital to quickly pick up on his cues to help him (and everyone else around him) to have the most positive experience ever. Sometimes we are successful with this feat, sometimes we are not.   

As we started out Friday morning, he willingly donned his coat and piled into the car with us. For the hour drive, he sat quietly with his noise cancelling headphones on and his hoodie pulled up over his head. He peered out the window. He seemed content. Occasionally he would look my way when I talked to him and his brother about this secret adventure that we were going on. No inquisition on his face, just a stare.

I wish I knew what he was thinking. Did he know where we were going? Did he figure it out? Was he excited about this? Was he wondering, too…”Are we there yet?”

We stopped to eat lunch and the rest of the family surprised the kids by showing up there. He appeared excited to see them. He greeted them all and even wanted a kiss from grandma. When they were getting ready to leave, he took my glass of iced tea and dumped it over. Although entirely inappropriate, this was his way of getting our attention to try to tell us something. It may have meant he was upset that they were leaving. It may have meant he was he telling us that he was done and he wanted to go, too.  Or it may have meant something entirely different.  We don’t know.  We had no time to analyze.  Honestly, we still have not deciphered its true meaning. There are times when we have to make judgments and assumptions in attempt to divert escalation of the behavior. Leaving was the swiftest and most efficient solution.

When we pulled up in the car to the entrance of The Great Wolf Lodge, he started to make noises. They were happy noises. He even had a smile on his face and clapped his hands. Did he truly know where we were? Did he remember this from last year when we came? Only he knows. If I had to make an assumption based upon his body language, his facial expressions, his gestures and the inflection in his vocalizations, I would say that he was one happy fellow that he was at The Great Wolf Lodge.

One thing we need to watch for is when our child is being overloaded with sensory input. Too much, too fast leads to a meltdown quickly. If one has ever been to The Great Wolf Lodge, you know that it is very loud in the swimming area. For the child with autism, it is sensory overload: the sound of the water splashing, the fans humming, and the echoes of the people shouting. There are bright lights and movement everywhere. We used earplugs and the Ear Buddy to help filter some of the sounds. Surprisingly, he tolerated it very well.

Although we rely heavily on reading HIS nonverbal communication, our son is unable to read nonverbal communication of those around him.  He has difficulty respecting the personal space of others. We often have to remind him “Touch nice” or “Hands to yourself“.  Relaxing in the pools, we noticed our son would slyly scoot away from us. We earnestly followed him to be in arms reach if an intervention was needed. As hard as it was, we could tell by HIS non verbal communication, he was telling us to “back off, guys, let me explore and have some space.” Almost as if telling us “You’re cramping my style.”

He is almost 9 now, you know!

So we did, and you know what? He made us proud!

It was time for diner and we were a little worried that he wouldn’t want to leave. However, he transitioned out of the swimming area, changed clothes and ventured into the car to go to another restaurant for dinner without incident. There were 10 of us, so waiting for a table and for all of the food to get there was a little long. He was so patient. But guess what? When he was done, he was done. How did we know? Well, when he threw the silverware on the floor and hit his dad.  That was the obvious sign. So, out to the car he and I went. Once in the car, he calmed down and we waited for everyone else to come out.

Back at the hotel we ventured to the arcade….OH Thank you arcade for the game where winning the spiky sensory balls were so easy. I won him as many as he could carry and squeeze at once. (BTW, that would be four!). They kept him occupied for many hours up in the hotel room, along with

Sesame Street

on the computer.

The slightest changes in routine cause our son distress and, it can turn a fun time sour in no time at all. Bedtime was approaching, and he was just not tolerating this change in routine. This wasn’t his house. This wasn’t his bed. Not to mention there is a “CAVE” in the room. We could sense his anxiety. He paced back and forth throughout the room. He was pointing to the door and trying desperately to escape. He was in fight or flight mode. With everything we had we tried to console him. He ran to the bathroom and pointed to the tub. He wanted to take a bath to soothe himself. Yes, it was eleven o’clock at night, but if that was what it would take, we would do anything. He took a bath, and got into his pajamas, but he would not go toward the beds. He still wanted to leave the room. I grabbed my cell phone, some pocket change and slipped on my shoes. Out the door we went.

I could hardly keep up with his cadence. He was pulling me down the hallway. He went to the windows and pointed to the waterpark. The lights were out, and no one was in there. I explained that it was closed and everyone was going to sleep and when they woke up, they could come back in the morning. He wasn’t having it. Desperate and panicky he led me to the front door of the hotel. It was pitch black outside and pouring rain. He didn’t care, he wanted to leave. I had to stand my ground and told him we were not leaving. I took him to the gift shop thinking a treat would soothe him, but it didn’t. I tried to hold him, to console him, but I couldn’t. His body was tense. The sounds he was making were heartbreaking.

We sat in the lobby. The clock said 11:40. I knew that this was going to be a long night. To me, it was quiet in the lobby although, you could tell the conversation of two patrons, who were sitting by the fireplace, was bothering him. He fidgeted on the couch. He was restless. I walked with him to a darker hallway. We sat on the couch and I held him tight. His eyes would slowly shut, then open suddenly as the employees passed by in the hallway.

At last, I felt his body go limp and his breaths get deeper. I didn’t dare make a move until I knew for sure he was asleep. As I sat there for about another 30 minutes, my heart cried out for this little boy. I cannot even imagine what he feels like as he goes through life without being able to speak a word. For his entire life, he has been told what to do, when to do it and how to do it. He lives in a world that doesn’t speak his language. He is unable to tell someone when he is happy, worried, afraid or angry. He is constantly relying on the scope and impact of non verbal communication, and mostly on the ability of others to interpret that correctly. If I had to do that on a daily basis, I would be frustrated and anxious, too, my precious one. Just know, momma’s here for you, and I’ll do my best!