Hero the greyhound (Simon's Hero)

Hero the Greyhound (Chapter 12)

"Good morning my little pumpkin" Simone whispered as she crept into Simon's room, "where's my favourite boy?" He opened his eyes and give a small smile at the sound of his mum's voice and then, he clambered out of bed and walked straight over to the colourful picture timetable stuck to his wardrobe door. There were very few words on the timetable but at the top, Simone had written, in big black letters, 'Simon Gets Up'. The first photo was of Simon, sitting up in bed, not smiling at the camera and underneath that, another photo of Simon standing beside his pine wardrobe. A line of four photos had been stuck underneath the words 'Simon Gets Dressed' but because she hadn't put the photos in any particular order, chaos ensued as Simon had tried to put his trousers on first, followed by his underpants, t-shirt, shoes and lastly, his socks (over his shoes).

This wasn't working. She needed to re-think things in a way he could understand easily so she re-arranged the photos in the order in which he would put on the clothes and shoes. Pants, socks, trousers, t-shirt and last of all, his small, blue and white Velcro strapped trainers. He copied the photos, one by one and she heaved a sigh of relief as he walked towards the kitchen. It had worked. She had seen the world through Simon's eyes and now, hopefully, there wouldn't be any more stress at getting dressed time

Wrong!

The following morning, Simone laid out some clean pants, socks, trousers and a t-shirt but because they weren't the same ones as the clothes in the timetable photos, Simon started crying and rubbing his hands together, as though he were trying to start a fire. "Oh no" she moaned to herself, "what is it sweetie?" The hand rubbing was a sure sign Simon was stressed so Simone quickly took down the photos, which were stuck on with Blu-Tac and hurriedly fished the clothes he had worn the previous day out of the laundry basket. They were the ones in the photos which, to Simon's mind, meant they were the clothes he had to put on. Thankfully, they weren't particularly dirty and if it meant Simon calming down and coming to the breakfast table without a fight, it was a small price to pay.

After she had dropped him at nursery school, Simone walked into town and bought some A4 pieces of white card and a big black felt-tipped pen. When she got home, she made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table. Remembering the PECS cards her friend had loaned her a while ago, she wondered whether drawing very simple black pictures on a white background with a single word underneath each picture might help Simon not to expect the same clothes every day. Would seeing simple, generic, hand drawn pictures of clothes help him to realise he wouldn't be wearing the same things every day? Up until now, she had dressed him herself but, wanting her son to become more independent meant getting him to take control of certain events in his life so she took off the lid of the felt pen, stuck out her tongue and began drawing.

After bath time that evening, Simon clambered into bed. Simone kissed the top of his head and he snuggled down under his duvet. She went back to the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer, where she had hidden her works of art. She waited a while and when she was sure he would be asleep, she crept into his room and Blu-Tac'd the five pictures to the wardrobe door. She had no idea how he would react when he woke up the following morning. Would he have a meltdown if he couldn't recognise the 'clothes' in the drawings? Would he be happy to wear the multi-coloured items of clothing she had laid out for him or would he go crazy because there were no clothes in his wardrobe which matched her rather amateurish felt-tip-pen pictures?

She still didn't quite know how he would respond to certain situations so she took a deep breath as she crept quietly into his room at seven 'o clock. "Good morning sweetie" she whispered, crossing her fingers behind her back. Simon slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the light from the hallway. He gave a small smile when he spotted his mum standing by the wardrobe, "now then, let's get dressed" she said. He walked to the wardrobe and, furrowing his brow slightly, he looked at the new pictures. He pointed at the simple drawing of the underpants. Simone held her breath as he walked over to the small pile of clothes on the floor and picked up the blue underpants. So far, so good. He sat on the edge of the bed, took off his pyjamas and started to get dressed. Her black and white drawings hadn't spooked him, he seemed to know what was required and that morning's dressing session went without a hitch. With the help of the Occupational Therpaist and Speech and Language Therapist, Simone was slowly learning ways to help Simon communicate with her and she was starting to feel they were really getting somewhere with it all. She and her son were smiling a lot more these days so that had to be a good thing.