Seeing myself in him

Have you ever looked for yourself in your child? I'm not talking about eyes, nose or other physical features, or even intelligence or attitude. I'm talking about behaviors. As a parent who has autism, I guess I have a semi-unique perspective on this. Most parents of autistic children are not such themselves.

Denver can get very aggressive with his toys to the point of breaking them. This is because he's trying to make what's happening with the toy as much like what ever he saw on television or somewhere else.

Take action figures for example. If two heroes are fighting, it's not enough to pretend the punch and effect. He will actually haul back and slam one figure into the other with force and conviction. He often does this with things that are not meant to be hammered into each other. He wants to feel the force of it all. It makes it more realistic to him. "But, Dad, punching isn't like that." Neither is crashing when it comes to his toy cars.

This often causes broken toys and those get discarded with a small lecture on being rough on toys.

So how does this fit in seeing myself in him? I did that too. I used to play all star wrestling with my vast assortment of stuffed animals and I didn't hold anything back. I punched them so hard they flew across the room. I did the jump from the turnbuckle and body slammed them into the floor. This caused tears and such that my grandmother would fix. I would get a lecture though. Crashing? Oh yes, my cars crashed with force that cleared other object off the table. That got me into a lot of trouble. "You had to see the ash tray! What were you thinking?"

I wasn't thinking, I was crashing. Didn't they know the difference? Apparently not.

It's important to remember the very literal sense that the Asperger's child has (along with other autistics to be sure). Look at a real crash. There's always force and damage and things go flying. Why would I play it out any differently?

Being able to see myself in my son has given me great hope. I know that I grew out of all the behaviors he exibits today. I did this without proper support, so he should do doubly as well, right? Well, that's kind of far ahead and he will have his own decisions to make by then. I will just have to do my job as a parent and remember, that I did these things too.

So take a look at the things your child does and try to think back. Did you do anything similar? What insight can you find? You might be surprised.

Autism and Divorce

I'm having a divorce. When you go through the big D you wind up going through all sorts of emotions. There is nothing to gain at this point as far as you're concerned. Only loss. Average folks do all kinds of crazy things when it comes to divorce. Desperation over property and children can drive you up the wall.

What can that be like for people with autism? I've explained before that autistics depend highly on their world being predictable and stable. I'm actually doing pretty well in this case, but that wasn't so true for the last two major breakups in my life. In today's case, we are splitting peacefully as possible. My wife wants to change her life and the best I can do for her is let her go. Unfortunately that means I'm not just losing a marriage or my wife, but my entire support system. I am my son's support system and that's no easy task with trying to apply damage control on myself. I'm thankful that I'm on medications for my comorbids or I might not be able to handle this. It's a scary situation because there is no one to help me if I have real trouble.

That's the unfortunate reality of divorce for anyone, but when you have medical problems that force your mind to depend on and view reality in a certain way. It's more than just an emotional issue. Denver is very good at observing, but he's not that good at decyphering. Now he worries when I drop him off at school that I won't come back. We have to make sure he knows, not only that none of this is his fault, but that not everyone goes away and stays away. He will always have both of us, just not in the same house anymore. That cracks the world he depends on right in half. There's no way around it, only through. Fortunately I do know what to do and what to tell him. It's going to take time.

Even with knowing, my brain still wants to go into a five alarm state because what I knew is no more. I have to will myself past that and resist it. I've had three major relationships in my life and not a lot of partners. I have children in all three relationships and try to stay in contact with them all. That doesn't always work the way I intend. Each one has lasted longer than the prior and I suppose that's a good thing. But back then, I wasn't on the meds and I had a really hard time.

The toughest thing is accepting the changes, then there's letting go. Autistics, as a general rule never embrace change, they naturally resist it. That's even if it's good for them.

I suppose all I've already survived has prepared me for moments in life like this. What an ironic and interesting point of view. I want to point out a blog I was introduced to recently. The person running it is a divorce lawyer who went through her own divorce involving her son who has autism. She brings up fantastic points of what such heavy changes can do to an autistic child and why the courts and all who work in them need to know. Her name is Pegi Price and you can google her or find her in my followers on my blogspot page. She recently published a book through the Bar Association called, The Special Needs Child and Divorce. Because I have trouble with posting links, I suggest you give it a google or search.

If you are new to my blogs, please subscribe or click follow on my blogspot. I'm glad to have you here. Also be sure to check out my other posts. You may find answers to questions there. You may pass on my information if you like, just make sure to give credit and hand out a link for others to find the source. Thank you for reading.

Morning Trials

My son, Denver, does not like being woke up in the morning. He likes to wake up at his own speed. You can tell the difference in the mornings that he gets himself out of bed, he's simply a happier kid. Heaven help me if I have to wake him up in the middle of the night, he can get really angry then. Just a year ago he could go into a violent fit at being awakened. He's better about that now, but still doens't like it.

Today he got out of bed at the sound of me walking around the apartment. So out bounces a happy rested Denver. I get him some clothes, sometimes he picks them, and we have a race to get dressed. It's a great way to get him motivated to move in the morning or at others times as well. He usually wins, but not this morning. Next it's time to pick what he wants for breakfast. He get's his choice out of what we have, depending on if I'm up to making it. I won't make pancakes every day, after all.

After he has his breakfast it's time for the morning trouble spot. He used to be much better about taking his meds. Now, when I tell him it's time for both of us to take our meds, I get a screaming fit. He knocked his toy castle of the table and started kicking everything near him. He's learned to pull his punches on objects because he knows it will hurt if he lays into things at full strength. That's how I know it's a fit he can control. I offer him time out until he's ready to take his medicine for the day. He immediately comes over to me stomping, huffing and swatting at things near him. He takes his medicine and I take mine. I remind him gently that he knows what his day will be like if he doesn't take his medicine or I don't take mine. Then I send him to the couch to have a time out anyway because of the fit.

That earns me a loud, "I hate you" that I ignore and sit down to check my emails. He goes through a noise making stage and inevitably wants to know when he can get up.

"When do you think you can get up?"
"When I've been quiet."
"Have you?"
"No."
Back to my emails. He remains silent for several minutes. Normally time out ranges at one minute for each year of age. I give him a touch of slack on that sometimes, when his meds haven't kicked in yet. I'll go for three or four minutes. He pulls that off and I let him get up. Apology is given and we're off on the rest of our morning.

At about 7:30 I check his homework and sign his school papers. There's some reading done. He loves to read and it's quickly becoming as strong point of his. The only other thing about mornings is getting him to slow down. I swear he's going to wake the neighborhood. One of his stimming behaviors is to shake his head and hands rapidly while jumping up and down emitting a high pitched EEEEEEEE sound. This causes my poor eardrums (with my own sensitivity to sound)to go into a panic. I have found myself yelling STOP, more than once with my hands over my ears. It's hard to not do that, like trying not to let your leg kick when the dr hits that nerve in your knee. Most times, he does stop and he knows what sounds bug me. Sometimes he uses them on purpose, so I put him in time out on purpose.

As far as I'm concerned, using someones sensitivities to harass or harm is just like walking up and punching them. I won't allow it. If he does it to me, he'll do it to some kid at school. I won't allow that if I can help it.

Once the meds kick in he slows down and has much better control over his impulses that are very hyperactive up until then.

I give him time warnings before we are going to leave or I'm going to have him do his homework. That helps to keep from interrupting him from what he's doing. When I suddenly interrupt him from an activity he's absorbed in, I can get a stomping fit that just gets him into trouble and causes us a delays. So I give him a fifteen minute and maybe a five minute warning. If he gives me grief over those, it's time out. If he goes along with it all and does what he's supposed to, he gets a blue poker chip in the "go" jar for a reward later on.

At 8:00 it's time to put on shoes and make sure backpack is ready to go. Then, by 8:10 we are headed out the door. I'm very particular about when I get out the door to go somewhere. I hate being late or slow to get going. If we run late it means parking hassles and stress, I hate that. Yes, I do work with it and try to keep my stress down, but like most autistics I have my routines and I can be obsessive about them.

I wait with Denver at school until he's ready to go to class. Goodbye's are given with promise that I will be back when school lets out and the morning business is done.

As for non-school days, those are very relaxed and everyone gets to sleep in. Summer may bring some other changes in schedule, but we'll see when we get there.

Gifts of Autism

We can spend a long time discussing how things can be hard with autism. For the most part, I prefer 'different'. Some things are actually quite a challenge but today I want to take it the other direction. Is there anything good about autism? Actually there is a positive spin.

I believe just about every autistic I've met has had some kind of distinct special skill. Usually it's based on their special interest but some go above and beyond even that. Take Daniel Temmet for example an his book, Born on a Blue Day. Daniel is a mathematic prodigy and they're still trying to figure him out. He sees shapes and numbers as textures and composites. He's capable of doing fantastic problems almost instantly.

Check out Matt Savage, you won't believe it but he taught himself to play piano. A feat that famous player Al Stewart just had to see for himself. In this video he plays the compelx piece, "Year of the Cat". Check it out:




Then try Jason McElwain who has a 90% accuracy ratio in shooting baskets. This boy made the news for firing a successful 6 three pointer shots in a row. It was the last game of the season and I bet they wish they put him in sooner!

I took the Global Assessment Functioning test in Nebraska to see what my level of general function is. It came up at 40%, which is why I'm on disability. Don't let that fool you. I do have capabilities that I am working on to bypass my disabilities. I also took a test of my skills at Vocational Rehab. My strengths came up in protection jobs and writing jobs.

On the protection jobs, I have 19 years experience in working security and 6 of that was actual law enforcement with a national certification. Yes, that was in Animal Control, but let me tell you that, because of how they do it in Lincoln, I've been on everything from murder scene to drug bust. I have stories, but they'll have to come later. I've always been interested in helping and protecting others. On investigations, I became known for finding small details that led me to closing cases and finding people. Those details were overlooked by others, but seemed so much larger to me. My sensitivities to odors and even sounds gave me an edge when handling cases that could have been more questionable.

On my writing I have had a lot of wonderful comments and compliments. I am very thankful and the test showed that I had this capability. I always have, so far as I know. Mind you, I don't want to be a braggart, but if you have it use it, right? I guess this is why I've had the interest in writing stories since very young.

The one area they didn't test me on is art. I am an artist and a great deal of my work can be seen at my myspace page in photos here. Oh and here.

My son, Denver has quite a bit of skill himself. He likes to build things. He's constantly surprising me with what he can do with common cardboard. I have witnessed his excelling at this skill above all others. He makes dungeons complete with pitfalls and traps. I wouldn't be surprised if he winds up becoming an engineer like his grandfather.

Of course there's famous autistics like Bill Gates and Keaneau Reeves. You can find a long list of people either confirmed or considered autistic and all of them with their own interesting gifts. For that matter, I think that autistics should be given a chance with those gifts to do good things for their communities. For all we know, an autistic finance team could save our economy.

I know, not all autistic show a big ol gift, some never are very clear on it, but I think it's still there somewhere and if you can bring it out, who knows what could happen next?

Raising Denver Part 7: The Present

It's taken trial and error and lot's of work, but now we have a routine. Denver is on medications to help him slow down and concentrate easier. They work for him. When making choices about meds, check out my blog on to med or not to med. We keep his routine as predictable as possible and even then he can get picky about some of the strangest things.

He used to be very picky about who read him a bedtime story or helped him get his toothbrush ready. He's a bit more accepting now. He can still be very touchy about some things, often at random. He can have a meltdown once in a while and that requires letting him hide in his blankets until it passes. Most of his fits can be stopped now with some basic behavior techniques. Before his meds, that didn't happen and we arrived late to school because of it.

As with the beginning, Denver takes his challenges head on. Currently that is the challenge of living through the divorce of his parents. He doens't fully understand why Mom doesn't live with us anymore, but he's taking it in stride. He's doing great things with his school work and I believe we have him on the path to some success.

Being an autistic Dad has given me some insight to him as well. I can relate to much of what he goes through and why. I know why he behaves in certain ways when the behaviors happen. I also know he responds best to a calm response, even if it seems he doesn't want to listen.

There's no such thing as a perfect parent and I make my share of mistakes. I correct what I can and keep going forward. Denver can trigger my autism by flashing things close up to my face so I have to turn my head away. Or he'll make one of his blaring or high pitched sounds that make me cringe. I do my best to explain what he's causing and he now knows that high pitched squeaking hurts my ears. So he comes up to me from time to time and says "squeak squeak". That earns him an explaination in how it isn't funny to do things that hurt others, even as a joke. Poking at others for their reactions is a noted Asperger's trait. Maybe because we are trying to experience the things we don't always feel.

I'm sure I trigger him as well, that's just something we have to learn about and get around. For example, if I sing a silly song at him it angers him very much. I'm not sure why really. But he hates it. Maybe I'm a really bad singer? I will say that observers have told me that we operate together really smoothly. I do try my best and I appreciate hearing that. It's quite uplifting, even if it doesn't show on my face.

Recently I was thinking of an old comic strip storyline called Lone Wolf and Cub, set in Feudal Japan. The story of a wandering samurai who's wife died and left him a child. He keeps the child with him on adventures and goes about cutting down obstacles in the form of blade wielding enemies. Through it all, he protects and raises the child. I'm no sword toting warrior, but in our world these days there's a lot to protect yourself from. When you're a single parent, you have to watch out for your child while balancing life itself. It's a challenge, especially when you're both autistic. So there is room for comparison to that old comic strip and we'll face each day, together, like Lone Wolf and Cub.

Raising Denver Part 6: Self Discovery

In this series, I mentioned that my diagnosis directly resulted from my son's diagnosis. This news set a series of resolved issues that changed my life.

As a child, I hated myself. I blamed myself for the abuse I received and the failings I endured in social circles from so very young. As I grew up I thought I must be some kind of chronic bad luck in human form. Nothing worked right for me, ever. When I started working jobs, I lost them or found I just couldn't handle them. I tried to go to colleges, but didn't understand what I was looking for or getting into. I was walked on, duped and scammed. I lost hope on daily basis.

In relationships I did no better. In my first marriage I had anger problems. I never hit anyone (except myself since I was still having the tourette-like self damaging seizures) but I would yell and scream in arguments when really not necessary. Everything frustrated me and I could connect through very little.

All my life, I've asked myself, "why?". Then, through a little one who had no idea he was a hero, the answer came. As I studied the effects of Asperger's syndrome on my life, with guidance and doctors assistance, I learned all the answers I could ever hope for. I can look back now and tell you exactly what made me lose jobs, become a bully and con magnet, and even lose relationships. I can do this, because now I know myself. I can now tell you just how lost a person can really be when they don't know themselves or what affects them.

For all I went through, I am still one of the lucky ones. I could have been any kind of criminal you can imagine by simply taking random paths in life as many of us do. That's how my life happened, it happened at random and with little control. Sure, I had ideas of what I wanted to be, but I had no clue how to get there. Because of that, I wound up in relationships that didn't match me. I built up colleged debts on things I would never use. Even when I joined the Army, it was on a whim. I was out of control because I had no support to teach me about my conditions and what they could to to me.

Could my life have been different? Certainly it could. I think the abuse would still have happened, but my thought processes would be with a different understanding of how I felt and saw the world around me. Now I see this as possible for all our our children who have autism, bipolar, ADD, ODD, and any of the other combinations of disorders that afflict our society in growing numbers year by year. We must teach them about themselves.

Take a child with peanut allergies. What do you think his chances in life are if he manages to somenow never learn that he has that allergy? Consider that the parents never ever eat anything that has anything to do with peanuts. Once he's on his own (I know it's virtually impossible to go through life with such an allergy and not discover it before you're five), how long will he make it in an now unprotected fashion? He can't. The same is very true for our children who grow up never understanding what is happening in their bodies from these disorders. Their lives become random and often chaotic.

So look to your children, teach them about themselves and how to control their conditions. You'll be glad you did.

Raising Denver Part 5: Messes

Potty training. My three daughters had small challenges when it came to this, but Denver topped them all. You wouldn't think in a million years, looking at him now, that he used to smear. Feces play is it's own phenomenon, and is very common in spectrum kids. It's a matter of texture more than anything and it's mind numbing.

We tried to keep him from doing it with different kinds of pajamas or plastic pants. All failed. The messes were never small and once or twice required hours of work to remove. We found one-piece jammies that stopped him until he learned zippers. That's when we started using safety pins through the loop of the zipper to keep that from happening. How could such a sweet child do some thing so grotesque?

Texture, like I said before, its all about how the texture is in the fingers. Children of this bizarre habit don't find discomfort in a messy diaper. Rather, they find fascination. The strange texture and the fact it leaves a mark enthralls and almost entertains. To truly understand, you have to stop thinking of the material as what you know it is. Your child has no clue or not enough understanding of what a toxic substance is. Autism causes the nerves for sensory relation to be hyperactive. Add all of that together and you can see how a toddler can be so amazed.

Getting Denver to stop simply took time and him finally potty training. Unfortunately potty training was not on his list of things to do. We could get him to sit on his potty chair for a short time, but sitting still for very long or at all just didn't work. We discovered that the flushing of the toilet scared him as well. There's a cool hollow feeling to a commode that I've discovered some autistic children don't enjoy. I wondered if that could have been another reason for difficulty. There was also a negative experience with an automatic toilet in a store that set him back months.

So what finally got my son to use the potty? Other kids. Denver fully potty trained by seeing other kids do it. This won't work for every autistic kid out there and there are those who haven't potty trained until past 10 years old. It can be done however and that's subject for another blog.

Denver had another habit that put us in a difficult spot. He loved to dig holes. You might think that's no big deal except that he would dig those holes in the walls, mattresses, toys, clothes, and anything else. If something had a hole in it, he would make it a super hole. Nick in the wall? Now you can put your head through it. I tried to find better places for him to dig holes, namely outside. Dirt or sand kept him busy for hours. Sometimes he couldn't stop himself, nearly falling asleep on the spot because he didn't want to quit.

Finally, he gave us one more set of scares by jumping off furniture and objects. By the time he did this, however, he was starting to recognize pain. I'm glad for that, because we might not have caught this injury if he hadn't. I don't remember what his mother and I were doing in our separate sections of our home. I only remember the scream. I had never heard such a noise from him before. We ran to his room where we found him sitting on the floor. At first we couldn't see what happened, but then he showed us the bottom of his foot. He jumped off his bed and landed barefoot on a die-cast metal airplane. It put a hole in the bottom of his little foot about a fourth of an inch long. We scooped him up and took him to the emergency room. They cleaned him up, trimmed a little bit of fatty substance dangling from the wound, and put superglue on it.

We had to keep him from picking at that and he hated shoes, can you imagine? Well, I promise part six won't be anything so gross, but it's true that this is something families on the spectrum have to deal with. I hope it brings new light to the life of our spectrum families.

Raising Denver Part 4: Diagnosis

A trip to a child therapist gave us our guiding arrow towards diagnosis for Denver and myself. She noted key points in his behavior; eye contact, lack of responsiveness to questions, strange organization rituals, and lack of understanding for social boundaries. Yes, I know small children aren't renound for their social understanding, however, they still have an age appropriate level of behavior. She suggested the name of a specialist, the only one in the area we lived in.

Testing for autism is not a quick process. It's a series of tests and questionaires. The questions are many and are about things that we notice in his behavior and reactions to the world around him. Asperger's Syndrome, what was this condition? I had never heard of it before and I started investigating it myself. I can already tell you that I saw myself in my son in many ways and I started to wonder if this condition could be hereditary?

I asked the doctor we were seeing and she said Asperger's can be very hereditary. I asked if I could be tested and we began my learning journey that would redefine everything I ever thought I knew about myself. Two months after my diagnosis, my mother contacted me to tell me that she had been diagnosed with the condition herself. She didn't know I was even being tested on the matter. So far, all of my nephews show strong traits towards this condition.

At home, Denver continued to surprise us and we feared for his safety overnight. We were met with a serious dilemna. We tried baby gates. With just one, he climbed over it. With two, we had the same result. Three worked to keep him in until he learned how to dismantle the baby gates. I already mentioned in the last part that child proof doorknobs were useless too. Authorities said that locking a child in a room is a fire hazard and considered child abuse.

So, what do you do when your toddler is so smart it's a hazard to his health? What ever you have to and you just don't tell anyone else. Yes, that means I put a latch on his door and once he was asleep, he would be shut in until morning. The fact of the matter is that, if there were a fire, an autistic child wouldn't be capable of escaping on his own anyway. If you take sensory overload into consideration, they would retreat or shut down. Denver would have hidden in his blankets if we couldn't get to him. Do you think he would be easily found? There are a lot of reports out there that say otherwise.

In case of a fire, our mission was to get Denver and get out either via the window or a front or back door. Then we would head for the street. So we had a plan and the door was only latched over night. Thankfully, Denver grew out of his extra adventures and we could stop latching the door. Sadly, many a family struggling with just this have been charged with child abuse or neglect when they are only trying to protect their child from him or herself. Had they allowed the child to roam free overnight and it caused injury or death, well, lets just say the charges were the same where we lived. So, since do and don't have the same outcome, you may as well "do" and protect your child. At least then they aren't getting into the knife drawer.

Denver's room had lots of blankets and large soft plush toys. Everything was soft and safe, so in the night, he had little to hurt himself with if anything. If you think that was the biggest challenge or that Denver was done throwing us curveballs, you'll have to see part five, because you've got another thing coming.

Raising Denver Part 3: Disturbances

Somewhere close to three years of age, Denver started having terrible fits. In these fits he would savagely slam his head against the floor or wall until physically weakened. Then he would pause, whimper and do it one more time if we didn't get to him fast enough. The fits were inconsolable and we got scratched and bit for trying to calm him. Nothing that we could see seemed to cause these fits either. They appeared truly random. His vocabulary grew by leaps and bounds and while this was wonderful, he some heartbreaking things to say. On one occassion that I grabbed him up from a fit, he asked me; "Daddy, why can't I stop?" That cut deeply and told me something really was wrong, and even he knew it. We didn't know yet he had Asperger's Syndrome.

We took him to an appointment with our doctor and he even had one of his fits right in front of him. The fact that nothing could comfort him struck a chord with the doctor and he prescribed a foam helmet. That required a new appointment elsewhere for a fitting. In two weeks he had his red helmet. He chose the color himself. We also discovered one thing that could console him in these fits. We covered him with a blanket. It wouldn't be long before that would make perfect sense.

On another facet he showed an interesting skill. We all know that kids get curious as they grow and start wanting to open cabinets and drawers to get to the treasures inside. Naturally we attempted to protect him from some of those treasures with child proof locks. They may have been child proof, but they weren't Denver proof. He took them apart with the nimble dexterity of a cat burglar. We had to change the style a couple of times and eventually got one that was just too hard on our own fingers for him. Still he would watch us intently any time we were near them.

He also showed a keen interest in the refrigerator in the middle of the night. We woke up several mornings to a keen mixture of foodstuffs on the kitchen floor. So we looked into making his bedroom more secure. Latching or locking his door was considered illegal in case of fire. It occurred to us that he would panic in a fire and we would have to get to him in any case. So we tried being crafty with child proof doorknobs. There's those laughable words again, 'child proof'. Yep, he took them apart with nimble ease. On one such morning, I staggered out of bed and to the kitchen.
"Daddy!" came a gleeful voice from above my head. I slowly looked up to where he sat atop the refridgerator. He held out a box of cereal with a beaming triumphant grin.

In part four I will tell you how we finally made it to his diagnosis and mine along with security measure that had to be adapted for Denver.

Raising Denver Part 2: Hurdles

Being 3 months early didn't slow Denver down one iota in weight gain to leave the hospital. The nursing staff remained pretty impressed with him through out. That's a comforting thought when you have a baby that can't leave the hospital until he weighs five pounds.

They only put him on oxygen once and that only lasted a few hours. I took a lot of time off work for my little man and my wife since she recovered from a c-section. By the time he finally came home they were having patience issues. Oh well.

We celebrated his home coming and spent lots of time getting used to a new schedule around the house. The first thing everyone noticed about Denver was his crying. He didn't. At least not as often as you would expect an infant to. This worried us but we forged forward and considered ourselves lucky to have such a happy baby. We checked on him more often but he sure made it worth it. He had to be about the most smiley baby I ever saw.

His little eyes would just light up whenever someone came to him. I'm still trying to find the photos so I can post them and show them to you. Even though he had reflux like my daughters did, and like I did, he didn't cry about that either.

As he grew he started into development toward crawling. Most babies roll first, not Denver. He started holding his head up and went to scooting, skipped most of crawling and started pulling himself up on things by 6 months. During this time, I did something really stupid.

Oh no! What could I have done? Well, we all teach our kids bad habits at some point in time. As it turns out, Denver and I liked to put our foreheads to each other (which made him giggle endlessly) and I would say "bonk bonk" (no I wouldn't actually bonk him, geez!) but he sure took it as a way to play. He became the head butting baby. His first word may have been Dad, but his favorite word was BONK. Out of the blue, if you held him too close, he would smile and slam his forehead right into your face. Yep, dumb Dad taught him that one and got to hear about it for months.

It was never enough to hurt him and that, at least, was a plus. As he started to walk, we noted that he always stayed up on tip toes. We didn't know at the time that this was a sign of things to come. He also developed hydrocephalis (water on the brain- and NO, not from headbutting people) but he developed past and overcame it. We had him in a little bit of therapy for the tip toe-ing but he soon moved past that too. He wasted little time on walking once he learned and jumped right to running.

Now a new problem presented itself. Denver wasn't responding to pain stimulus. He would fall, hit his head on a coffee table edge or a door and bounce right up and be off again. Not a single tear ever fell for the longest time. He was ticklish as anything, but if he ever hit anything very hard, until he was almost 3, nothing. It's scary when your child doesn't know if he hurts himself. You find yourself getting paranoid about everything he does.

Fortunately, today, that's not the case. He's seven now and knows pretty well, but in part 3 I'll show you just how scary it really got.

Raising Denver Part 1: In a Name

My son's name has a history. His full name is Denver Justice Wilde and he likes to make sure you know his whole name whenever anyone asks. He knows a little bit about the history of his name too and if you ask him, he might tell you. He is named after a dear departed friend I considered to be a brother. He considered the same of me.

In Denver Jr.'s family, the first son of a first son's name had to be Denver. It was the family tradition and reached clear back into the family's roots in old France. So, it's safe to say that the city has nothing to do with it. For that matter, when this tradition started, the United States hadn't been born yet.

Denver Jr. looked so very forward to passing his name on to another generation one day. That was not to be. We lived in Henderson, Nevada when it happened. He worked and extra shift in a video store for a sick co-worker. I found out about it when I went to pick him up at 11pm.

"Sorry, I'm doing an extra shift. It's good money and the other guy is sick."

Fine by me, we could use the money since we were about to get a new apartment to officially start of our Las Vegas living and adventures. We called ourselves the DnD Brothers and we had big plans. I bought him three Mountain Dews and got him some change for the night shift and went back to his grandmother's house where we were staying.

That morning, his father woke me up and asked if I was supposed to be picking Denver up. I had expected a phone call to wake me at seven am sharp but that didn't happen. The only thing I remember was waking up at five a.m. with a strange feeling that I should get in the car. I dismissed it and went back to sleep.

Denver Sr. and I drove my car out to the video store. We could see the yellow tape cordoning off the parking lot and building from blocks away. Denver Sr. caught on right away, but I didn't. Denial? Hope springs eternal? I don't know. Maybe the thought was just too much to consider. It took me innocently asking an officer how long they would be questioning my brother before I was given the messsage.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you won't be taking him with you anywhere. He's gone."

Gone? I fell back against my car and felt reality pulling away from me. I couldn't believe it was even possible. I had just seen him before midnight.

Two thieves, high on drugs, robbed the store in the early morning hours. A man and a woman. I still know their names, but I won't waste space with them right now. Since I was one of the last people who saw him alive who knew him, I faced his killers in court for two years. I identified my brothers body for the State of Nevada. They rot in prison to this day.

Needless to say, the tradition broke, but I decided not to let it stay that way. I told Denver Sr. that I planned to start the tradition anew. True, it would not be of the same family "blood", but family none-the-less.

I had three daughters and earned a stepson before he came and my wife agreed that his name would be Denver Justice.

He made quite an entrance into our world, three months early, two pounds, lobster red and screaming with quite a set of lungs for his little size. I've seen all my children come into this world and each one had their own way of making their presence known. Denver's was the loudest.

That was just the hairline beginning of my adventures with this little man. Oh how I had no idea what I was in for.