It’s every parent’s nightmare: receiving that dreaded phone call from the school principal about your child’s behavior. My stomach dropped as I prepared for another early morning meeting in those tiny chairs that made me feel like a kid again, being reprimanded.
We were informed that our 5-year-old son, Leo, was struggling in class and having confrontations with his peers and teachers. Instead of asking for my input, which felt overwhelming, the director surprised me by mentioning something called sensory processing disorder (SPD) and handed me a flyer for an organization called LifeSkills.
That same morning, I found myself on the phone with the LifeSkills director. Within minutes, I felt as if we had finally discovered the missing piece of the puzzle that was Leo’s life.
Sensory processing refers to how a child’s nervous system interprets sensory information—sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell—and how they respond to it. For kids with sensory challenges, their brains struggle to make sense of external stimuli, leading to inappropriate reactions. There are various types of SPD, including sensory over-responsivity, under-responsivity, and sensory seeking behaviors.
Leo isn’t comfortable with touch from those he doesn’t know well. If someone invades his space or takes a toy from him, he reacts strongly. He refuses to wear socks, still uses pull-ups at night, and is particularly sensitive to noise, which makes classrooms a challenge for him. In a chaotic doctor’s waiting room, he once shouted for everyone to be quiet. He can’t stand the smell of our dinner or the sound of chewing, often insisting on eating alone. Yet, he’s messy when enjoying ice cream, getting it all over his face and hands. Mornings are slow, and any slight change in his routine sends him into a panic. All these behaviors pointed to sensory processing disorder, but I had initially dismissed them as mere defiance.
Later that evening, while at the park, a neighbor asked how Leo’s school year was going. I hesitated to share that we had switched schools after being asked to leave a previous one. To my surprise, she revealed that her son had also faced similar challenges due to SPD. That was an enlightening moment—being open about our struggles led to unexpected support.
In just one day, I had multiple conversations about SPD. Shortly after, my neighbor gifted me a book titled “Sensational Kids” by Lucy Jane Miller and offered to share insights from her own journey with her now-thriving son.
Leo went through an evaluation and was diagnosed with classic sensory processing disorder. Since public schools and insurance often don’t recognize SPD, his formal diagnosis included dyspraxia (motor-planning difficulties), hypotonia (low muscle tone), and coordination disorder. He struggles with simple tasks like walking heel-to-toe, holding a cannonball position, or jumping vertically—behaviors I had previously labeled as clumsiness. He even has trouble maintaining eye contact and drawing shapes that his peers can easily replicate. This wasn’t about intelligence or effort; Leo simply wasn’t receiving the right signals for his body to function the way it needed to.
Realizing my misunderstanding of his struggles brought a wave of tears (#momfail). However, with each piece of the puzzle we uncover, we’re getting closer to supporting him effectively (#ahamoment).
We learned that the muscles in the mouth develop before those in the hands. Leo has been receiving speech therapy since he was young and often chews on his collar, creating holes in his shirts. He craves hot chocolate, chewing gum, and salt-and-vinegar chips because the heat and flavors provide the sensory input he seeks.
Leo enjoys activities like biking and kayaking, as they involve predictable movements that he can repeat easily. And, for the sake of my husband, there’s still hope that he can excel in sports.
Occupational therapy has become a key part of Leo’s journey. He enjoys weekly sessions with his occupational therapist, who even transitioned from engineering to this field to help her own son manage SPD.
As we approach the fall, I worry if Leo will be ready for kindergarten. Every parent wants their child to fit in and succeed. Yet, weeks after that initial meeting, I found renewed hope and appreciation. We have a school willing to collaborate with us and support Leo.
Family and friends have rallied around us, recognizing Leo’s potential. One night after the parent-teacher conference, a friend left me a note on my porch with a bottle of wine called Dark Horse. Hearing affirmations from fellow moms and having someone who understands my child is a priceless gift.
Ultimately, the greatest gift for Leo is that we, as his parents and his educators, are beginning to understand more about what he faces every day. Equipped with this knowledge, we can offer him the time, patience, and empathy he needs to navigate and flourish in this hectic world.
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