I am ashamed to say that I had neglected reading poetry to my children until only recently when I was spurred on by this post at The Common Room to pull my bedraggled copies of A.A. Milne’s When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six off the shelf (my personal childhood copies I’ll have you know - thanks Mom!). I plunked down on the couch and waited for my mommy magnetism to work its mojo. Within minutes I was buried in boys and I began to read.
Strangely enough, my two middle children have never been all that keen on being read to. I don’t know if it’s the Asperger Syndrome at work or just boyhood wiggles, but they both have extremely limited attention spans, a non-existent ability to sit quietly and listen, and the overwhelming desire to turn the pages before I’ve finished reading them. They do love books, though. Andrew taught himself to read when he was four and reads every day. Anyway, I was shocked to find that when I read A.A. Milne’s poetry…they listened! Andrew especially seemed to fall head over heels in love. Unfortunately that love entails getting my precious and aged paperbacks and carrying them everywhere, including the backyard. (maybe the dearth of rain here is a good thing)
My uber-logical, not all that fanciful, first-born also liked the poems. Especially those involving knights and dragons. He has picked up Now We Are Six more than once to flip through and find the ode to The Knight Whose Armor Didn’t Squeak. Even little Joshie has been heard lisping little fragments of verse.
Motivated by such success, I didn’t hesitate when I saw volumes of Shel Silverstein on sale at Sam’s. We brought home Where the Sidewalk Ends and stayed up way past bedtime passing the book around and laughing ourselves silly. My husband (who had a not-very-childlike childhood and needs to catch up) even made the book his bedtime reading for over a week!
Now I don’t know if this will work for all Asperger kids, but I have to tell you, the biggest benefit of all the poetry has been the effect on Andrew’s echolalia. He’s started transitioning from the constant recitation of VeggieTale dialogue and Calvin and Hobbes strips, to touching renditions of his favorite poems! I didn’t even know he had memorized them! The first one was truly tear-jerking. One night, with the sweetest expressions and gestures, he treated us to Milne’s Vespers:
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.God Bless Mummy. I know that’s right.
Wasn’t it fun in the bath tonight?
The cold’s so cold, and the hot’s so hot.
Oh! God bless Daddy - I quite forgot.If I open my fingers a little bit more,
I can see Nanny’s dressing-gown on the door.
It’s a beautiful blue, but it hasn’t a hood.
Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good.Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed,
And pull the hood right over my head,
And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,
And nobody knows that I’m there at all.Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day.
And what was the other I had to say?
I said, “Bless Daddy,” so what can it be?
Oh! Now I remember. God bless Me.Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
And he tacks on a darling “In Jesus’s name, Amen.” for good measure!
Andrew has also been heard to chant this poem which is perfect for his age (he’ll be six in June!)
The End
When I was One,
I had just begun.When I was Two,
I was nearly new.When I was Three,
I was hardly Me.When I was Four,
I was not much more.When I was Five,
I was just alive.But now I am Six, I’m as clever as clever.
So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.
But I think my favorite, because it’s just so Andrew, is this little gem from Shel Silverstein which he says with a mischievous grin.
Ourchestra
So you haven’t got a drum, just beat your belly.
So I haven’t got a horn - I’ll play my nose.
So we haven’t any cymbals -
We’ll just slap our hands together,
And though there may be orchestras
That sound a little better
With their fancy shiny instruments
That cost an awful lot-
Hey, we’re making music twice as good
By playing what we’ve got!
Now I can’t say for certain
Cause my research is confined
To only the two Aspies
That I’m pleased to say are mine
But it seems to me that poems
Reach their brains a special way
And give them something different
To say and say and say
So If you’ve you got a little child
Who’s seems stuck on repeat
You might want to teach him rhyming
And give your ears a treat!