Wednesday, March 21, 2012
A Peanut Butter Sandwich
A miracle has occurred at my house. Not a big, holy hannah there is a saint living here kind a miracle. No... one of those small, beautiful little miracles that really reminds you that every minute is a miracle, and you should celebrate each one by hugs and smooches. You know, the kind that really matter.
I was grading exams, when Joey comes into the den with a big grin on his face and what appears to be a sandwich in his hand. With the pride of a boy who has just conquered the known universe, he announces, "Mommy! I made a peanut butter sandwich!" His first peanut butter sandwich, all by himself, start to finish. Then he took a big, beautiful bite. Then he let me take a picture.
In case you don't see the miracle in this, let me outline what it means to make a sandwich:
1. Sequencing. Take out the bread, get out the peanut butter, spread the peanut butter, put the sandwich together, put away the peanut butter and close up the bread. I could get into finer steps of the sequencing required, but you get the point. Sequencing is something we always have trouble with here. Yes, he can turn the key and get out the door no problem, but doing something like making a sandwich? Way too many steps... until now.
2. Hand control. Ever watch a little kid try to spread peanut butter? The bread is usually unrecognizable by the end, or you have this very large lump of peanut butter, or both. It takes a huge amount of control to spread anything with a knife, especially something as stiff as peanut butter from the fridge. Controlling the pressure exerted as you move the peanut butter across the bread is something you may not even think about, but was impossible for Joey... until now.
3. Bilateral coordination and crossing midline. Ever try to do that spreading with one hand? To make a peanut butter sandwich, you usually have to hold the bread with one hand and spread with the other. This requires coordination, and an ability to cross your midline while you hold that bread in place. Joey has limitations in his ability to cross midline, which results in poor bilateral coordination. Holding something in one hand and manipulating it with the other with any real accuracy is something he struggled with.. until now.
Now, he can make himself a peanut butter sandwich. That boy rocks.