A couple of weeks ago, my stepdaughter had a PA Day on the same day as my kids (different cities, therefore different school board schedules). She asked if she could come spend the day, so us girls spent some time together. Ok, the girls spent time at the park, playing games together doing sisterly things, while I made sure food was made and drinks were available whenever they wanted.
My son still had IBI that day so I arranged for my stepdaughter and I to go watch a program at IBI while my daughter went to a friend’s place for a playdate. I go to a program at IBI every month or so, but this was the first time my stepdaughter attended.
As soon as we got there, we were greeted by letters scattered all over the floor, with four words spelled out. I finally realized that my son was always repeating the word “foal” instead of “fool”. 😉
We watched as the therapist finished off a program my son was working on.
He got really excited seeing his big sister and I, so it was a bit difficult to keep him on task. The therapist usually gives him a choice of two things as a reward to work towards when he succeeds at a program. Whenever I’m there, he usually ignores that option and just comes and plays with me. I feel kind of bad because I’m interfering in the programming, but really? He’s choosing ME as his reward. Love it!
One of the programs we saw was to put 5 pictures in the correct order. He had done the first sequence before, and then they handed him a new one. He looked at the pictures, moved them in the order of the sequence. He couldn’t figure out the order of two of the pictures so the smart little guy turned them over and finished the sequence. That’s when we realized someone had written the numbers in order of the sequences on the back…and apparently he knew that too. Too smart!
Another program was to verbally count while placing a bead on each number. He also had to verbally choose at which number he would stop. He did the task a few times, and each time the therapist and I would comment that we couldn’t see a pattern in the beads. My stepdaughter said she could. Got to love similar brains!
My son also got to practice turn-taking with my stepdaughter, playing checkers. The goal of this form of checkers wasn’t to actually get three in a row, it was for them to take turns with my stepdaughter using red checkers, and my son using black checkers. It was great to watch them!
So, after the hour, we returned to the car and went home. I asked my stepdaughter what she thought. Her response was the same as my first time attending IBI “I’m exhausted! I can’t believe that he does that for six hours a day!”. Yup, he’s a smart little guy.