Embracing the Natural Look

Sensory issues make life interesting. I haven't always felt this way about them, but I have come to appreciate them for what they teach me about my son and about the human body.

When Ian first became overly concerned and bothered by clothing tags, I cut them out willingly. Then he would complain that the little scraps of the tag left behind were hurting him. After removing every last fiber of several tags, I began to suspect he was just trying to see how far I would go to please him. He began complaining about sock seams, waist bands, shoes, velcro, zippers, and every subpart of his wardrobe.

One day I handed to him a perfectly repaired t-shirt and asked, "Would you like fries with that, sir?" The look on his face told me I had made a big mistake. That was when I knew I needed to can the sarcasm and start taking him a little more seriously, even if his complaints seemed far-fetched to me. When he refuses to wear certain articles of clothing, there is a good reason.

Ian adores visiting with family and is generally very good about playing fairly and sharing his toys. When my nieces come to visit, the kids run through the house, scream whenever they feel like it, and generally enjoy being kids. But when 3 little girls squeal, the auditory effect is that of an arrow piercing his eardrum. My father is fortunate. When the kids get wild, he takes out his hearing aids and is lifted beyond the boundaries of pain. Ian cannot escape it. So when he puts on headphones and chooses to play alone, there is a good reason.

Whenever Ian feels too much sensory stimulation, regardless of the source, he prefers to remain nude. He has spent many days over the last few weeks in nothing but his briefs. The last few weeks have been extremely difficult for him on so many levels. When he refuses to get dressed, there is a good reason.

I have to put one requirement on his streaking activities - he must wear underwear. The shear shock value of having a young boy answer the door in his birthday suit makes for wonderful conversation at dinner parties, especially when it is a great neighbor with a terrific sense of humor who is being flashed. Still, I am sure most people would prefer not to see Big Jake and the Boys when they ring my doorbell.

He may be a little guy, but sometimes he knows what his body needs better than anyone else. I have to respect that and allow him the freedom to let it all . . . or most of it . . . hang out.