Frustration is a key word in most of our days. I easily frustrate and get pissed off. My husband easily frustrates and yells over the smallest upsets. SO, it is not a huge shock that Roger inherited our frustration gene.
Today’s therapy session was an “anger management”/”frustration management” session. At one point, Roger’s interventionist said, “He is going to have to stop this crying”. He would cry/whine anytime he had to do something he did not want to do. I guess the kicker was that he did not feel like doing anything during his session. That equals almost two hours of whining. There were moments of quiet and joy, but they were few and far between.
Even before his session began, Roger tried to get his “spice bottle” from his play kitchen into a cup. He got one to fit but a second one would not. The crying/throwing/whining fit began. And, after the session, the whininess continued. He likes two tv shows but he calls them the same thing. When I put the wrong one on, the crying/headbanging meltdown began.
I feel a lot of his frustration would be non-existent if he had more words to communicate with. He mistakenly signs “more” instead of “all done”. He says “babba babba” for Pocoyo now and not just Yo Gabba Gabba! He has a vision of how he wants things to be but his motor skills will not enable him to do it. On top of that, he usually dislikes asking for help. All of that creates one huge ball of frustration.
Despite all that, I love the whiny men in my life!
Spinning Wheels 