Following Ezra Read Free Page A

recognition. Then she asks what Karen has been doing to help our son adapt. Karen pauses for a long time, at a loss, then, looking down, quietly answers: “I’m telling you .”
    I don’t know what any of it means—how unusual his behavior is, what our next step should be—but as the two of us slip out of the school and slowly walk down the street, I feel a sense of alarm and disquiet like none I have known.
     
     
    That night, Shawn can’t sleep. Of course, we have both recognized our son’s odd habits, but hearing the description from Karen has been a shock. His behavior isn’t just odd; it’s problematic. Surrounded by the rambunctious, animated play of other two-year-olds, he chooses to be alone, seeming to notice only the picture books he is continually paging through.
    “He has difficulty focusing on tasks such as hand washing and drying, feeding himself and fine-motor activities,” Karen has written on the twopage report she handed us on our way out of the classroom. “He often chooses to be by himself rather than interacting with peers.”
    Shawn has long felt baffled by Ezra. She’s a natural and nurturing mother, constantly singing to the children, lavishing the boys with hugs and kisses, and enthusiastically engaging them in play. But Ezra has become resistant to her hugs, and she has expressed frustration and sadness at how our two oldest children don’t interact easily the way she saw other siblings play. Ami seeks out friends and playmates, but he has little to do with Ezra, who shows no apparent need or desire for companions. Sitting up in bed, tears running down her cheeks, Shawn takes out a pad of paper and writes the words: “Who and what is my son Ezra?”
    She lists these qualities of our two-year-old boy:
    • Sweet!
    • Musical—remembers words and melodies
    • Articulate
    • Very attached to me
    • Happy
    • Strong willed and determined
    • Very into routine
    Then she writes another list, under the heading “Ezra does not” :
    • Eat much or regularly
    • Socialize much with other kids
    • Always respond when called
    • Sleep late
    • Sit for long at dinner
    • Like to remain clothed
    Finally, she makes a third column: “Ezra likes” :
    • Snuggling in blankets
    • Snuggling with me
    • Bathing, playing with toys in bath
    • Playing in porta-crib with his animal friends
    • Watching videos
    • Playing outside with water
    • Hearing books read
    • Sitting alone and looking through books
    I’m not sure why she is compiling this inventory of our son’s traits. I suppose Shawn is trying to exert some control—to make sense of the chaos. My wife is not timid. She is assertive, self-confident, and operates with assurance. But not now. When it comes to Ezra, she seems uncharacteristically adrift. Writing it down helps. Just articulating the collection of behaviors and characteristics that she has been noticing, sometimes passively, seems to ease her mind. But it is also painful. When she’s finished writing, Shawn looks over the pad of paper, shakes her head, and wipes a tear away.
    My own response—to the list and the situation—is different. Part of me still thinks our son is fine; he simply needs an instructor who understands him. One of Karen’s observations was that the teachers had brought in a plastic toddler-scale table meant for water play, and filled its shallow basin instead with dry oatmeal. Ezra, she reported, kept trying to eat the oatmeal, even when his teachers repeatedly asked him to stop. Who is right, I wonder—the ones playing with oatmeal, or the one eating it?
    I have been a journalist for years, and I am trained to use research as the way to solve problems. When I shop for a camera or a printer, I study Consumer Reports , bring it along to Best Buy, and purchase the best product on the list. That keeps things simple. Shawn has already obtained the phone number of a family therapist the school recommends. I figure that we’ll consult this