Inclusive Sensory Park and Playground

"Play is often talked about as if it were a relief from serious learning. But for children play is serious learning. Play is really the work of childhood."

  - Fred Rogers

Alright...this is blog post about Glade Run's newest project, with some personal bits thrown in for flavoring.  First of all, I need to tell you that I was asked by someone at Glade Run if I could give this project a plug on my blog.  I didn't get paid to write it, though, nor would I have written it if I didn't think it was a great idea. But it is...so here's the "plug".

I'll ramble around in circles that slowly spiral inward until my point is revealed.  As is the custom of my people.

(outskirts of the circle)
A few years ago a friend of mine did a crowd-sourced funding for a project of hers.  It was a sensory gym.  Essentially it was (in my words) an OT's view of what a children's play area should be for kids who want, no NEED, sensory input to help regulate themselves.  You might compare it to a sensory room, but turbocharged.  Bigger, more stuff, more feedback.  I loved the idea.  I wished we had something like it in the area.  We could brave Chuck E. Cheese, or hang out in the kiddie section of the amusement park, but Lily keeps getting bigger, and her presence is less and less welcome in the areas of those places where she looms much larger than the 2 and 3 year old children it is truly geared for.

(inching closer)
A year or so ago (because my wife worked there) I learned about Jeremiah's Village.  This was a project that Glade Run is undertaking right now to design and build an entire community specifically geared toward accommodating people of all abilities, and including them.  It's being built right now.  The local paper did an article about it, and my daughter got sneezed on by a horse in the picture section (she volunteers in the animal program at Glade Run).  For more on that click here: Jeremiah's Village

When it was first introduced, they talked about housing where caregivers could live together with, side-by-side, or in the same community with their loved ones in an apartment style setting.  And I immediately had visions of one day retiring to an apartment where Lily could live in an adjoining apartment; it was every autism parent's commune fantasy come true.

(crawling a teensy bit nearer my point)
This inclusion really seems to be central to Glade Run's thinking.  Jeremiah's Village seems to be all about inclusion.  It almost seems like it would be "easier" to build something that catered solely to those autistic people who needed it.  This vision seems broader.  This vision seems more in keeping with what my understanding of "acceptance" is.  Acceptance isn't recognizing that some people have different needs and creating specific programs just for those kids/adults who need them.  Acceptance is creating opportunities for those people to join everyone else doing what they're doing.  Acceptance is recognizing that the playing field is tilted and instead of building a new playing field for those who struggle with angles...untilting it. 

(nearing my point)
One reason many autism parents (and I'll speak for all autism parents here knowing full well that there are almost as many different viewpoints among autism parents as there are autism parents) struggle with inclusion on the tilted field, is because of the stares.  Because people by and large judge and make assumptions about behavior without knowing the story.  Every does it.  That won't ever change.  I have been told I shouldn't have taken Lily to a movie theater unless I could keep her quiet.  I have been asked to leave a church because Lily's volume was disrupting the organ player's Easter music.  I have been asked to move my seat during a school talent show because Lily was too loud and was hurting her child's ears.  Every time something like this happened, it drove me further and further toward not taking Lily with me anywhere.  Every time I felt ostracized.  Every time I felt judged.  Every time I felt excluded.  And it drove me further and further toward just excluding her from everything.

And the above isn't meant to reproach any of the people involved in it.  I was plenty pissed, don't get me wrong.  But ultimately, the theater wasn't an inclusive environment.  People paid money to enjoy the movie and were irritated that they thought Lily would drown out the show.  The organist playing the packed Easter mass was sitting right next to the overflow seating in the balcony where we had to sit.  She couldn't focus on her job with Lily next to her.  The woman sitting right in front of us at the talent show had every right to be concerned about her son's ears.  She had sat down before us.  She and her family had every right to enjoy the talent show just like mine.  (Honestly though, she was sitting directly in front of the speakers, and Lily's volume was nowhere near the loudest thing assailing the poor boy's ears.  Some people are just assholes)

(Okay...we've arrived)
Glade Run is building an inclusive park.  This is a park with a level playing field.  It's not for autistic kids.  It's not for neurotypical kids.  It's for everyone.  And the needs of everyone have been weighed and incorporated where practical for everyone.  They're calling it a Sensory Park and Playground, and a sketch from their crowd-source webpage is here...

So...it looks like a playground, right?  It IS!  So what makes it "inclusive"?  How is this park any different than any other park?  Why is this park exciting to Jim Walter, "Target Guy", "flusher of sporns" and autism parent visionary??

Here are some design bullet points. (See the link below for a more thorough explanation)

1. enclosed to help prevent bolting
2. organized separated play zones
3. retreat spaces, quiet zones, and separation to minimize overstimulation
4. incorporates sensory elements:  touch, scent, movement, sound
5. play elements designed to aid body awareness and improve motor skills
6. social opportunities.  play equipment designed for use by more than one child.
7. ammenities.  restroom, lighting, landscaping, shelters, picnic areas.

I really hope you click the link below.  I think this vision of inclusion and acceptance is one worth rewarding.  And yeah, many, or even most of you are reading this from far away from buccolic Zelienople.  To you I would say, support this park, and then encourage your own local charity, foundation, school board, or community to use it as a blueprint for your OWN park.

Check out the link "Glade Run - Inclusive Sensory Park and Playground"

Giveaway!

There are many reasons people choose to get into blogging.  A lot of people find "the process" cathartic; getting your thoughts, your hopes, your fears, down on "paper" is almost like free therapy.  Many people thrive on the attention, collecting comments like esteem currency.  Some people use it hone their 'craft', writing daily to make themselves better writers.  But I think the blogging majority knows what's most important.  Free. Stuff.

I am offering you people free stuff, because I love you most of all.

First, a little background:

My daughter, Lily, is a sensory seeker.  She's hyposensitive, which essentially means that she doesn't feel things as strongly as other kids might.  She rubs her feet, she fidgets with her fingers, she grinds her teeth.  These are all ways that Lily can feel the world around her more strongly and locate "herself" within it.

Lately Lily has been putting her treasured items in a big Princess bag that we have.  It's a school-size bag that we used last year to pack changes of clothes in, and Lily has been taking pictures and toys and stuffing them in the bag, then carrying the bag around the house and unstuffing it. . . then starting over.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  But the bag is huge and slumps over itself and sometimes she has a tough time getting the things out of it that she puts into it, and other times she can't get things into it because she can't find the top, or carries it upside down and her toys dump out because it doesn't have a closure.

I wondered what she might do with a bag that was a little smaller, more hand-size than shoulder bag-size.  And that's when a friend approached me about reviewing Tactile Tote (TM) touchable bags.  I hesitated, because with Lily, you really never know what she'll latch onto and what she won't.  You might THINK it's a great fit for her, but her reaction to it is often a crapshoot.

I'm all for getting free stuff and giving it to Lily to try, but in return I promised to review the product, and you can't really review a product that your kid won't give the time of day.  And there's no rhyme nor reason to it that *I* can tell.  And although this seemed like a pretty good fit, I was worried about whether or not Lily would take a shine to it.  So when I agreed to review it, I requested purple (the purse-style girls' bags come in five different colors), because Lily likes purple stuff.

Alright. . . the suspense is probably killing you.  Did Lily like it?

She did.  Did she get a little TOO stimulated and have to be separated forcibly from it at bedtime that night?  She did.  In the future would I wait until the following morning to introduce something this?  I would.

*contemplating the fuzziness-factor*  Survey says, "IT'S SO FLUFFY!"

She liked the bag.  In her words, "It's soft!"  She carted it all over the house, stuffing pictures and miniature McDonald's Happy Meal toys into it and then pulling them back out.  The bag has a soft fluffy textured piece, a warm flannel piece, and a back that's a cool, smooth leather.  Attached to it are some material fidgets or "tots" with different textures.  The interior is lined.

Lots of choices

The "durability" test

From a parent's perspective there were several things I liked about the bags, and only a few comments or suggestions, that aren't necessarily criticisms, they just might work better for MY particular kiddo.  The bags are well constructed, Lily is pretty rough on her belongings, but there were no rips or tears, neither did I have to trail around behind her picking up stray bits of fuzz.

The top closure is an elastic band that loops around a soft button.  This is either good or bad depending on how you look at it.  Lily's fine motor skills are a little lacking, so she wasn't really able to make the top closure work.  The plus side is that once it was closed, it stayed closed, and her toys weren't constantly falling out all over the place.  The minus side was that she required a little help opening it when she wanted her treasures removed, and closing it when she wanted them replaced.

frontsies

backsies (see the tots?)

The side sipper allows zipping and unzipping, listening to that sound, or feeling the sensation through your fingers. . . but there's nothing under it, i.e.,  it doesn't open into the bag. The positive of this is that Lily isn't constantly unzipping it and having all her toys spill out the side.

The color choices are vibrant and many and offered in enough patterns and shades that boys or girls can find something that will appeal to them.  For example one of the giveaway bags sent to me has brown fur on one side and basketball/baseball/football patterns on the other side, whereas the other has yellow fur on one side and flower print on the other.  You can purchase them with over the shoulder straps, or around-the-waist straps.

The tots are also available for purchase.  Two come on each bag, but you can buy as many as you like, particularly if your son/daughter fixates on them (Lily didn't).  The bags are 6" x 9", so you can fit school supplies in them. . . pencils, crayons, etc, if you had a mind to, and could certainly act as a first purse.

So where could you use the Tactile Tote?

Getting Ready for the bus

Bedtime (results may vary)

"break" time

Lily tried lots of different options. (see above)

But you don't care about that. . . what you care about is free stuff. And I'm here for you.  Take your mind off sporn flushing for a few minutes and just think about free stuff.

The thing that typically scares me away from contest or giveaways is I'm super lazy and hate having to go all over creation trying to fulfill the requirements of the giveaway.  So I'm making it very very easy.  If you feel like your sensory deprived kiddo would benefit from this, or you're looking for a great Christmas present or maybe you like fuzzy bags yourself. . . all you have to do is click this here fancy widget-ma-thingy:

Tactile Tote Giveaway!

When you win. . . and I know it's going to be YOU. . . I'll follow up with you to get name and address to ship out your Tactile Tote.

Wobot

Wobot in his natural habitat

Emma has been excited to start getting our house decorated for Halloween.  Last night while my wife was putting Lily to bed, she and I began the set up. . . orange lights on a faux wrought iron fence, skull heads, jack o’ lantern lamps, and all the trimmings.  Anyway, one of the decorations is a little animatronic skeleton that does a little dance to the tune of "Low" by Flo Rida.  Last year it scared the shit out of Lily.  Or at minimum she was not overly fond of it.  She called it "wobot" as in robot.  She didn't recognize it as a skeleton, which isn't a big deal, but probably is for the best.

So we set all the decorations up last night, and wobot was sitting next to the fireplace.  He's about 8" tall.  It was dark in the family room when we walked down the stairs.  Despite his inconspicuous placement, the first thing Lily did this morning was walk right over and start talking about making wobot dance.  "I want wobot dance!"

So I made wobot dance, depressing a somewhat hidden blister switch on his sleeve, and placed it on the table.  Next thing I know she was carting the stupid thing around with her everywhere, a  far cry from last year's "I no wike wobot!", and I'm trying to get breakfast ready, but every 30 seconds I had to stop because if I didn't, Lily would just repeat excitedly, "I want make wobot dance!" over and over times forever.

A few minutes later her big sister Emma came down stairs and since her breakfast wasn’t ready, I pressed her into ‘pressing’ duty.  She would ask Lily if she wanted wobot to sing and then would periodically depress the blister so that he could continue to sing about apple bottom jeans and the boots with the fur, etc.  Which is all pretty adorable. . .

. . . until it was time for breakfast, because Lily didn't want no damn breakfast, she wanted wobot.  And the answer to each of the following questions:  1)  “Lily, do you want a pop tart for breakfast?”, 2)  “Lily, do you want a strudel for breakfast?”, and 3) “Lily, do you want happy toast for breakfast?” was, “I want wobot.”

Finally to get us to shut up about breakfast she agreed to "pink pop tart," which we dutifully provided her on a pink plastic plate.  She put perhaps a quarter of a thimble's worth of poptart in her mouth before she hopped from her chair and said, "I'm all done now, I want wobot."

We stayed firm, of course, and said, “First pop tart, then wobot!” (only we pronounced it "robot") and she continued taking tiny mincing bites and popping up, frantically searching for wobot, until I finally negotiated one big bite of the damn pop tart in exchange for the wobot.  This was the first step down the slippery slope that hindsight almost immediately recognized, because as she took a bite, and I put wobot on the table, and he commenced to get his groove on. . . and she announced, "I all done pop tart," having gotten what she wanted all along, tipped the poptart off her pink plastic plate and stood up.

 “No, Lily, sit down,” said my wife.  Then, “Keep the pop tart on the plate.” 

Lily sat, for perhaps a second, wobot clutched in her hands while he gyrated, and said again, “I all done pop tart,” again upending the plate, while my wife repeated "No, Lily, leave your plate alone". . . lather, rinse, repeat, forever, while Emma took the opportunity to tell us all a story about a dream she had, as wobot continued to sing at full volume about how the whole club was looking at herrrrrr.  And it all became a little too much for at least fifty percent of the people in the room . . . my wife and Lily went into sensory overload.

Wobot was angrily removed from the vicinity much to Lily’s chagrin.  Words became clipped and terse.  All parties became tense and the morning degenerated to angry sarcasms muttered stiffly under breath and great forced politenesses. 

Eventually we got Lily to eat a few grapes, but she continued her domination of us, fooling us into believing she actually wanted happy toast*, which I made her in an effort to get something in her system.  She ate about as much of it as she had of the pop tart and then it was time to go to day care.  Not a spectacular effort on our parts.

So my wife lost it this morning, but you could tell this story again tomorrow and replace “she” with “he”, and neither of us would bat an eye, since the person who loses it seems to depend on nothing so much as what way the wind is blowing, which is why we’re such a good team, since we have yet to experience a day where we both simultaneously flip out.  I think when I see her lose it, it scares me and I somehow immediately develop superhuman patience, and the same seems to go for her.

I didn’t realize how stimulated Lily would be by wobot.  She was completely out of control (which is ironic since she had us leaping to do her bidding in an attempt to get food in her).  After the dust settled and the kids were safely at daycare and I drove to work, I called my wife to give her the daily morning drop-off update.  We talked about what we had done wrong and how her eating is getting a little out of our control again, and we needed to redouble our efforts. 

Tomorrow we’re hiding wobot until after breakfast.