Denial Is A River In Egypt

By Liberty Hunter

WHAT is normal? Is it represented by a boring, mundane, grinding routine? An existence many of us take for granted and curse at times for being so predictable? Perhaps. But one day, it is suddenly gone!

Young mum Indy had a “normal” life. But then it changed. Plunged into the unfamiliar, Indy struggles to comprehend what has ha

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: May 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643450025

Liberty Hunter

Liberty is a wife, registered nurse, and mother of three. Born and raised in Australia, she has lived with the mysteries and rewards of having an autistic child. Autism makes for a harsh environment, on as diverse and extreme as those people it has affected over the course of time. This is Liberty's first book. She is pleased to be able to present the perspective contained herein Invisible disability challenges many people, because when others can't "see it" they struggle to understand its impact and even question its existence.

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to the inner child who resides in the soul of each of us. They are unique, playful characters filled with wonder, energy, and fun. Some adults, having stopped listening long ago, tune them out; some still tune in to them from time to time; and some never tuned them out in the first place. Which of these three are you?

Acknowledgments

It would never have been possible for this book to eventuate, or the tale to be told, without the efforts of a few special people. Ev Maher-Brooks inspired me to begin. Margaret Yates inspired me to keep going. Jay Dawal inspired me to complete the book. Donna G. tolerantly read and re-read manuscripts, and my family endured everything in between. Thanks to all involved!

Introduction

Have you ever felt that life was meant to be little more than an existence filled with small ups and downs and ordinary struggles? Indy did, and she had been quite content with that. Life consisted of a series of milestones, with the participant rewarded accordingly for due diligence. According to Indy, an optimist, where there is a will, there is always a way—and in her profession, several relatives squabbling over it!

However, over time, something extraordinary happened. Indy’s personal theory about what life was all about changed course. With her equilibrium disrupted and her sheltered world shattered, she found that the stark reality of life proved to be quite different from what she had previously thought. Life was really just a series of random events accompanied by the painful glass splinters of indiscriminate injustice. This new perspective ruffled her confidence and left her convictions in an unfamiliar state: disarray.

This book reflects a typical family’s roller-coaster ride into the unfamiliar world of autism. Nothing could have prepared Indy’s family for the adjustments. And the frightening thing is that their story is not all that unusual. The same could happen to anyone. Very subtle were the signs. Yet, suddenly, Indy’s family did not belong alongside everyone else anymore. Suddenly, things were different.

Prologue

The telephone rang distantly. Its shrill tone punctuated the stillness with intrigue. As it was early afternoon, the caller would most probably be a horrid telemarketer on the prowl. Among the most despised people on earth, this exclusive crowd included real estate agents, car salespeople, and politicians. The potential depths were endless, really. Indy sprinted up the stairs at the last moment to catch the call before the phone rang out.

The phone had been limited to seven rings rather than the standard thirty. Indy rarely even heard it when she was out in the yard, like she was today. Genuine callers could always leave a message. The prime purpose was to avoid giving potential intruders any clue as to whether the family were home or not. A tad isolated, their semirural property was nestled privately along the battle-ax lane.

It was still in town, but the area was not built out yet. Being away from the busy street provided a reassuring safety net for a couple with small children. Whereas usually the wind gently rustled the leaves on the bands of gum trees nearby, today it had been pleasantly quiet, with just the occasional whiff of a breeze chasing itself around.

Hello? Indy cautiously ventured, ready to terminate any unwanted calls in an instant.

Hello, Mrs. Fielding? It’s Mrs. Vindin, Cassie’s teacher from school, calling. Thank goodness we’ve finally found you! For some reason, our records are missing your contact details.

But we filled in everything at the start of the school year, Indy blurted. It’s now third term! exclaimed Indy in alarm. There’s no excuse for us not to be contacted, especially in an emergency! Concerned about what had happened, Indy felt frustrated about the obvious inadequacies of the school system. Her feeling was hard to contain. Restrained by the uneasiness of not yet being aware of what had transpired, she cautiously prevented herself from shooting the messenger.

There’s been a playground incident involving several children who were assaulted by another student, Mrs. Vindin said.

Indy shuddered at the thought of rogue children in general. How dare they intimidate vulnerable children who were unable to either escape or defend themselves from such ill-intentioned bullies? What’s happened? she questioned cautiously.

Her apprehension about what she would soon learn didn’t help matters. She bristled with annoyance and groaned silently as she imagined injuries Cassie may have suffered. Perhaps Cassie had been ferried off to hospital in an ambulance and lay frightened and all alone there.

Don’t panic yourself, Indy. Cassie is actually fine. However, there is an urgent matter that we must discuss with you…next week.

Couldn’t a note be sent home with Cassie today regarding this since it’s obviously not urgent enough to discuss before next week?

You’re right, of course. You should be told sooner rather than later. This incident took place last week, and we really should have contacted you sooner, but, as I mentioned, we had some difficulties. The teacher sighed uneasily. There were four other children involved. Three were scratched across the face, and one was pushed over, kicked, and rolled in the bark chips under the play equipment. The children, whose faces were scratched, were attacked so viciously that their wounds bled!

So Cassie would be the one pushed over in the bark? Indy cautiously completed the sentence. She hadn’t noticed any scratches on Cassie’s face. Indy knew that Cassie had experienced some problems earlier in the school year when other students had babied her. She’d been carried around and had not liked it. Surely they had learnt to leave her be?

Actually, Cassie is the student who assaulted all the other students, the voice announced unexpectedly.

W-what? Indy stammered in utter disbelief. Have you seen the size of Cassie? She’d have trouble knocking her toy doll over, let alone active children who are bigger and stronger than her!

Yes, I know, agreed Cassie’s teacher. The three scratched children were all separate incidents, but this took place on the same day. The other incident occurred the same week. She has scratched six children in total since the start of the current term. It is only week two! There were numerous witnesses whom we carefully questioned. They all were consistent with what they saw. Cassie suddenly attacked for no apparent reason.

Shocked, embarrassed, and mortified to have received such a phone call, Indy struggled to respond. Nothing came out. Her voice froze as her mind raced.

"Cassie has been displaying several unsociable behaviours, which we’ve been attempting to address, but this is by far the most serious to date, continued the grating voice at the other end of the line. The school does not wish to unduly concern you, but due to the escalating violence and malicious intent Cassie has displayed, we have no choice left. We have carefully considered her case since she is so young, but we are convinced she did deliberately hurt these children. Because it has happened on more than one occasion, the consequences must reflect this and will be greater than if it were one single, isolated incident."

Tears stung Indy’s eyes as she continued to listen in numb disbelief. Things felt surreal, as if she were in a parallel dimension, in some other universe. Her mind wandered back to her instinctive reaction, which was to ignore the phone call. In fact, she’d even prefer to be talking to an annoying telemarketer over having this conversation. It must be a mistake, a prank call, anything but the truth.

Cassie is being suspended from school for the next five days, effective immediately, droned the voice.

Oh? Okay, Indy softly mumbled.

"The usual penalty for violence against a fellow student is three days’ suspension. But because of repeated aggressive acts, we have had to take everything into account, and it has compounded the penalty. We require you to come and pick her up from school right now as she is considered a volatile threat to other students. We need to talk to you about her return to school in a special meeting to be arranged next week."

Shame streaked through Indy’s system, followed by a rising fury. Although there had been previous incidents, they were nowhere near this level of severity. How was Indy supposed to discipline Cassie weeks after the initial incident? Given the viciousness, there had to be some reason for her behaviour other than a pure desire to hurt others.

PART 1

Bliss Is…

Chapter 1

Sugar and Spice, Sandpits and Snails

Ten months earlier

Dark blonde hair flowed menacingly to her petite waist. Windswept waves tussled and bounced along in time with her every movement. More than half her height was hair. She was rough and ready, yet elfin and delicate. Her tiny features captured her femininity. She looked very cute in her pint-size, brand-new school uniform.

The fine blue pinstripe pattern enhanced the glistening blue eyes that peeped out from under the wild blonde mane. She giggled, jumping up and down with excitement. A big school! What a concept for her little mind to absorb. She’d been so excited to finally try on her uniform. Cassie being very small, it required alterations to better the fit.

At almost five years old, Cassie had been enrolled at the local private Christian school. Preparations for her first day were in full swing. She was the eldest of two girls, and her adventures in life were getting bigger every day. Her daddy had attended this same school as a young lad some decades earlier.

Remember, big-school kids go to school every day, Indy casually emphasised. With as much positive energy as she could muster, she hyped it up and hoped Cassie understood it enough to pull off a smooth transition. This was nothing like preschool, where she didn’t have to wear a uniform or do structured bookwork most of the day, every day. She had attended preschool only two days each week. This is for the next thirteen years of your life, Cassie, Indy continued.

These were just words that bounced off the wall and went straight out the window. Cassie’s concept of time seemed limited to what’s now and what’s next. The family’s modest budget would be tightened even more, with school fees to consider. Still, enrolling her seemed the right thing to do. They would give Cassie the best start they could afford. Indy and Pete Fielding were very proud to see their first child reach this milestone.

When they’d submitted Cassie’s application, an appointment had been made for Cassie to return for an assessment. Just part of the standard process to determine the learning needs of our newest students, the receptionist quickly justified. She smiled in anticipation, pen poised. The assessment would ensure Cassie’s readiness to begin formal learning. Still, it seemed an odd request. Cassie met the age requirements. Kids went to school to learn everything else, didn’t they?

Indy had gathered plenty of early learning educational books. As a new mum, she’d aimed to instil the essential concepts when her daughter was very young. Practical and incidental learning opportunities were just waiting to be optimised! It’s probably every mum’s best intention to recognise and take full advantage of these. It had seemed a great idea. Unfortunately, Cassie had not been all that interested.

The concept of holding any type of drawing or writing implement earlier on had met with her defiant opposition. Maybe it felt too uncomfortable for her hand? Despite Indy’s best attempts to make the activities seem fun, Cassie rejected most without a second look. Even pretty, glittery, googly-eyed novelty pencils with soft finger rests were ineffective. It seemed a reasonable conclusion to allow her to pursue activities she enjoyed.

Indy and Pete could reintroduce those less appealing tasks at another not-too-distant moment in time, such as when their daughter forgot she hated them.

Another of Cassie’s peculiarities was that she hated many of the treats that other kids would do most anything for. In particular, she spat out fizzy drinks, vegemite (a traditional Australian bread spread) sandwiches, and green lollies. She happily ate almost everything else.

Strangely, Cassie wasn’t keen on reading books that had green on their covers, either. You can’t judge a book by its cover, Indy explained to an obstinate Cassie. Indy went out of her way to prove her point, finding green animals in green books for Cassie to consider. Cassie did love animals, and she spent plenty of time out back as she searched through the grass (which was green)! Surely it would prove to be a minor matter! Indy and Pete could later deactivate her unreasonable aversion.

Clothing with three-quarter-length sleeves, short shorts, sleeping in the dark, and storms were things she also strongly disliked. Numerous young children were known to go through phases of disliking certain things. Over time, Cassie would probably change and accept these things, too. Other choices were available. It hardly seemed a drama. Why not let her be an individual for now?

As a child, Indy had hated pumpkin, peas, and spinach so much that she secretly fed them to the cat under the table every night. As Cassie had progressed, she revealed a skill for precision-throwing small objects at unsuspecting targets. She proved to be an excellent shot and could strike the unfortunate target with damaging intent.

It had been of mutual benefit not to encourage that particular talent so as to avoid missile injuries and damage to the home and its contents. No building blocks or Lego pieces were kept in the home. Those became a treat enjoyed at other people’s homes and under close supervision.

Cassie’s most highly prized passion in life so far was the sandpit. If allowed, she would spend hours on end in it. She never tired of running the tiny grains of sand through her hands. She owned the sandpit at preschool and became quite bossy. She instructed the other children, even the boys, about what they were permitted to play with.

Size didn’t seem to intimidate her in the least. Her peers either played her game her way or didn’t play at all. She seemed happier still if they all went away and let her do as she wished, all by herself. I can just imagine her in charge of a big construction site one day in the distant future, telling the boys what to do and how to do it, Indy said, chuckling.

That would be pretty funny if it eventuated, Pete agreed.

A bit of a tomboy, Cassie frolicked in the sand and dirt as happily as a pig in mud. That’s where her interests seemed to lie. She looked like a girl but acted like one of the boys when it came to making mud pies and sandcastles. She’s not rattled by any of it, Indy observed in surprise. Snails, frogs, and lizards were also popular entertainment.

The day of Cassie’s assessment arrived soon enough. With it came many tasks typical of things she’d had no interest in as a tot. In fact, she mostly ignored the teacher on assessment day.

Is there any possibility that Cassie is deaf? the assessor enquired in defeated concern.

We’ve never had any reason to suspect she might be, Indy replied. When she was a baby, we were more worried that she might be blind, as she stared into space so much, Indy joked.

The teacher did not reciprocate Indy’s attempts to lighten the mood. Was it possible that Cassie had hearing problems? She had suffered the occasional ear infection in the past. They’d been very painful and distressing for her, but they had always been resolved with a treatment of oral antibiotics. She had neither had recurring cycles nor required any further investigations, certainly none recently!

Her fine motor skills revealed a messy yet colourful result. Cassie had no interest in what typical colour common objects were meant to be, or that the colours ought to stay within the lines. She could sing the alphabet and could count. The only irregularity was that the number five did not exist in any of her counts. She skipped it altogether, as if it had never been invented.

She could not visually recognise the individual alphabet letters, so she could not recognise or write her own name. As for her paper-cutting ability, Indy and Pete observed an unusual scissor grip that Cassie had invented for herself. Not being overly keen to encourage use of scissors at home, especially with Cassie’s baby sister around, they determined that it was a hazard they could do without.

That’s an inverted grip, the teacher commented wryly during the paper-cutting part of the assessment. Cassie stuck her thumb and index finger in the handles, but instead of the blades pointing forwards, they sat flat against her palm and pointed downwards. She cut down the piece of paper with little control but with lots of enthusiasm. With a large pair of scissors, she could potentially cut her clothes or even injure herself.

After the disastrous assessment had run its course, Indy and Pete expected their application to be rejected.

As long as Cassie works hard to master these tasks she has ignored—and, of course, if she gets her hearing tested and no abnormalities are discovered—then she can start in the kinder grade as planned, the selection panel advised unexpectedly.

The family cat, whose name was Wombat, came to tolerate Cassie’s company in time. Almost in a hypnotic state, he allowed her to poke and prod him. She’d examine his teeth, ears, eyes, paws, claws, and tail in the most peculiar ways. Was the cat paralysed with fear or lapping up the love? It was almost as though he was absent from the experience, perhaps floating around the ceiling and looking down at himself. The family watched him, amazed by his tolerance. Quite bizarre!

Everyone else received kicks and scratches from the merciless cat. Not known for being a pat-able cat, Wombat usually bided his time. Like a flick of a light switch, he’d suddenly flip onto his back and strike faster than lightning. He’d wrap his legs around the unsuspecting victim’s arm, trap the limb, and bite it into submission. He loved that game. When he played it, everyone would leave him alone!And yet Cassie could snuggle up to him and pet him without consequence. She’d wander around the backyard, even as a two-year-old, with Wombat. They were unlikely companions, yet they explored the ‘jungle’ together. Cassie would stand astride the proud ginger cat as if he were her trusted royal charger.

Figure 1. Wombat, king of the jungle.

The two would stroll around the yard like that, searching for hidden treasure. Once Cassie found something of interest, Wombat would lie down while she absorbed the object’s wonderment. Then they’d move onto the next quest that captured their attention.

Indy’s retired mare, Coco, had been her riding companion and closest friend throughout her (long-gone) teenage years. They’d had many outstanding, death-defying adventures together. Coco, now much older (and grumpier), would be in her late twenties, if not older. Well and truly into her twilight years, Coco had always been a member of the Fielding’s furry family.

Part thoroughbred and part quarter horse, the old bay mare had constantly been an antisocial horse when among her own kind. Throughout her long life, there’d been disagreements. If another horse unwittingly looked at her or stepped over some invisible line, then it inevitably suffered the consequences of her wrath. From Coco would come squeals of annoyance as her ears flattened out of harm’s way—against her neck—and her hairy lips peeled back to expose bared teeth, all set to attack.

As if possessed, she unleashed herself—and horse Armageddon exploded into action. She was a nasty piece of horse and feared none. She proved to be the aggressor on every occasion. During one vicious kicking battle, Coco sustained a puncture wound on an upper foreleg. An artery, of all things, sliced open, as evidenced by the intermittent spurting bleeding pattern typical of any blood vessel leading away from the heart.

Fortunately for Coco, Indy witnessed it, although she was powerless to intercept until shortly after. Indy finally managed to separate the two beasts, after which she wrapped Coco’s leg firmly to stem the flow. Otherwise, the feisty foolish mare may have bled to death right there and then! Coco didn’t care. Indy knew better than to risk being caught in the crossfire. Her presence would never stop a Coco bomb from going off.

Several crimson stains of blood had already trickled onto the ground. Coco continued her dance across the dirt yard, her angry squeals of contempt and pain splintering the suddenly silent country air. An animal in the wild would quickly lose blood pressure through loss of circulating blood volume. The dust kicked up by flying hooves was probably full of bacteria, but in the wild it would probably clot off the injury and save the horse’s life.

Indy often contemplated what would have happened to Coco without her interventions. You’d probably be dead several times already! she said, fuming in mock exasperation. Very wary of any animal under the control of fear or fury, Indy knew that survival instincts would trigger the fight-or-flight cascade—escape or attack, the involuntary reaction induced by an adrenalized bloodstream. Such powerful responses are not easily subdued. One angry ball of energy was a description that summed up Coco on a normal day.

Cassie had never had any fear of Coco, despite the horse’s being obviously much bigger than her. Certainly Coco was much larger than the cat! A shocked Indy felt her heart stop in alarm one time as Cassie walked between the horse’s front legs. She gently stroked the hairs on the horse’s legs as she opened her arms and hugged both legs tight to each side of her face. Coco’s underbelly hair tickled her, making her giggle away with amusement. The horse didn’t even flinch.

Keeping Cassie away from the kicking end and closer to the biting end had somehow seemed the lesser of two evils. Both were poor options! But standing underneath the horse was an even worse one. Cassie had no idea of Coco’s terrible reputation. With her heart thumping hard, and with Cassie’s future flashing before her eyes, Indy carefully strategized how to get Cassie out from under there, how to keep her safe.

Coco lazily munched away at her chaff and sporadically reached for stray wisps of lucerne hay next to her feed bucket. Indy continued to groom the horse as she manoeuvred an oblivious Cassie out of harm’s way. Indy warned her as firmly and calmly as possible, "Never go under there. The horsey could get a fright and jump on you."

Cassie giggled hysterically at the thought of that as she sat down. She’d already learnt that if you laugh too hard, sometimes you fall down and hurt yourself. She hugged the feed bucket, which now sat between her legs. It was a feeble barricade, but it separated Cassie from the horse. Coco thrust her head in for another mouthful of feed.

Cassie explored a tuft of hair in Coco’s ear, considering how different it was from the hair of her forelock. Little fingers traced their way around the tiny white diamond on Coco’s forehead. Much more visible this close up, it warranted forensic texture analysis. As the exploring fingers climbed higher, they again found their way into Coco’s ear. A gentle shake of the horse’s head usually displaced insects. Cassie’s tickles felt no different from a bug.

Want to see a trick? Indy ventured.

Cassie looked round in surprise, unaware that Indy had seen her rearranging Coco’s hair.

I’ve taught Coco a magic trick. If you ask her a question, she will give you an answer, Indy revealed with a smile. Let’s see what secrets Coco knows about you, she teased. To the horse, she asked, Did Cassie eat all her dinner? Indy stood before the horse, behind Cassie, and pointed at Coco’s ear. Coco shook her head vigorously, indicating a definite no. Has Cassie been a good big sister? Again she pointed, and the horse shook its head.

Figure 2. Coco, the antisocial horse.

Cassie sat amazed. The sneaky horse had told tales! (She would never know that Coco could only say no.) It proved to be the only trick Indy had ever managed to teach Coco. She decided not to let Cassie in on the secret just yet. Leverage became a necessary evil when children needed motivation. So Cassie better be good, or Coco will tell me all about it, she emphasised.

Though she loved that horse, Indy could not risk relying on Coco’s temperament to remain mild around her young children. Cassie enjoyed giving the horse a soft brush on the face. Obviously very impressed with Coco’s big brown eyes, she stood level with them and stared inquisitively at them for a while. She didn’t even try to poke them.

Coco frequently snorted, blowing up clouds of chaff and dust, which showered down over Coco’s and Cassie’s heads. It was like Christmas without the snow! More giggles erupted from a delighted Cassie. That dust tickled her nose and made her sneeze, explained Indy. Cassie immediately started doing horse sneezes, too, without scaring the horse one bit. It seemed impossible this same horse would be capable of such a split personality.

Cassie underwent intensive big-school boot camp. Reviewing the alphabet, name writing, working on numbers, and practising a scissor grip with cutting exercises were daily drills for the several weeks prior to school’s start. Reassured, Indy learned that the newest school starters would begin with a gradual increase in their hours and days for the first few weeks.

Until the new routine (and endurance) becomes their new normal school day, it’s to be expected that our new students might be a little fatigued, read the advice she had received from the school.

Recruited to assist, the staffs at Cassie’s preschool were advised of the tasks that needed to be mastered for big school to become a reality. Incredibly, Cassie did what she needed to do for a change! All in the family breathed a collective sigh of relief. They were exhausted before the school year had even begun, yet they were triumphant! Orientation days to meet the other children in Cassie’s class were the next stepping-stone. Her horizon would continue to broaden.

No longer had a preschooler, Cassie graduated to primary schooler. She underwent her audiometry check, which showed her hearing to be within a normal range. An ear check prior to repeating the hearing assessment became the next little item to be addressed.

Have a look down the otoscope, the general practitioner (GP) invited.

Plenty of wax could be seen in her ear canals.

It’s a wonder she can hear as well as she does, he marvelled. A few days of eardrops to soften the wax will be necessary, the doctor ordered. Some of it may have been there for a while! Impacted wax dries out over time. Sometimes it becomes intricately attached and is difficult to shift, he explained.

Cassie returned to the clinic to have her ears syringed. The amount of muck that washed out surprised even the doctor: loads of wax, several mosquitoes, dirt, sand, and more wax! The repeat audiometry test showed, as expected, that her hearing was still normal.

Cassie looked tiny next to her future classmates even though she was actually older than some of them. One tall blonde girl with beautiful long tresses adopted Cassie like a mother hen does a baby chick. The name on the sticker stuck to her chest was almost as lengthy as, and was frequently obscured by, the long, silvery strands that tumbled over her shoulders and ran down past her waist.

Indy had a newfound sympathy for children with long names. She wondered if this one had struggled to be able to write her name before now. Probably not! She looked abnormally confident.

I’m Annalicia, and I’m five, the girl declared. Cassie, Annalicia’s mini replica, stood by quietly. Annalicia was quite cute in a way, except she wanted to carry Cassie around like a baby rather than let her walk like a fellow student.

Are you going to be a help or a hindrance? Indy wondered.

You’re too little to be at school, Annalicia announced in the next breath. The tall girl’s prompt estimation of Cassie unnerved Indy’s confidence.

If a five-year-old could decide such a thing, then what might everyone else think? Indy wondered. She may not be big, but she is old enough to be here, replied Indy. Perhaps it would be best to let her walk, because she can, and let her talk, because she needs to be treated like a big girl.

Annalicia did not look convinced.

Not everyone grows at the same rate because everyone is different, continued Indy. "Besides, it’s good everyone is not all the same. Much more interesting!" Still not satisfied, and probably confused by the complicated explanation, Annalicia skipped away to play princesses and queens with some other girls.

Chapter 2

Manipulation

It was a time of transition for the whole family. Cassie had enjoyed almost two years of Mum time prior to the arrival of her little sister, Ellie. Now the chance arose for Ellie to even up the balance a bit. At three years old, and already little Ms. Personality plus, she might yet prove to be the extrovert of the family.

Preceding Ellie, Cassie had been the most placid baby imaginable. Although Pete and Indy were grateful for that, it had seemed a little unusual for them as first-time parents. How did you get such a perfect baby? friends would ask. Indy could see nothing that she had done as being any different from what anyone else tried with their babies. Yes, it was a bit odd, but she didn’t want to spoil her good fortune by worrying about it.

She endeavoured to enjoy it while it lasted, which turned out to be about the time Ellie screamed a snorting arrival. What a contrast! The moment Ellie drew her first breath, her voice was loud and instantaneous. Perhaps this matched the standard new baby nightmare that Pete and Indy been missing out on? She’d scream at full volume within seconds of waking and would scream even more if one dared to try to burp her midfeed.

Instead, she preferred to gorge herself and burp while still suckling vigorously. What an impatient little person! Nappy changes at night were another drama. Part of the reason babies awake is because they are wet and uncomfortable. With Cassie, she’d emit a soft little cry and stop once she was picked up. She’d suck her dummy while being changed. That all took place before her feed.

With Ellie, no way was that going to happen. One could shove that dummy where the sun has never shone!

Don’t like it, don’t want it! Get rid of it! She refused to have even the most fleeting relationship, at any time or stage of her babyhood, with a dummy. She wanted the real thing or nothing! Nothing soothed her except a feed. She was much different from Cassie! What’s normal?

Both of the girls were growing adequately and meeting their milestones. Indy tried to reassure herself. Chalk and cheese were those two girls. Even the flick of the light switch being turned off would be enough to wake Ellie. She wouldn’t settle until after another feed had been consumed. Though she appeared to gorge herself, she never was one to be sick from drinking too much.

Ellie’s birth weight remained on the lower range of normal, according to growth percentile charts, so Indy figured it could only be of benefit if she consumed more, so she would feed Ellie again! She loathed being such a slave to the whims of this baby. What would the child be like as a teenager?

Have you heard of those touch lamps? Indy commented one day to her husband. It might be exactly what we need to keep Ellie in sleep mode after she’s fed! Turn the lights on and off silently!

If a touch lamp is capable of making any difference to this sleep-deprived, never-ending torture, hurry up and get one, Pete muttered in defeated exhaustion. It proved to be a cheap investment with good results.

During one of Ellie’s follow-up visits to the paediatrician, the doctor came in looking quite concerned about numbers alone. Ellie hadn’t gained much weight. Upon examining her, he could see for himself. Wow, she’s a chubby bubby, isn’t she? he commented in dismay. Continue with the demand feeding even more frequently if Ellie is wakeful and wants it, he recommended.

She had somehow been heavier, although smaller, at birth than some of the other newborns in the hospital nursery ward. At only 7 lb. 1 oz., she would hardly rate as a typical heavyweight. She was just a compact and heavy-boned little cherub! Ellie lapped up the on-tap supply of attention, oblivious to the fuss.

Indy soon succumbed to sheer exhaustion despite the touch lamp. It had allowed a little more rest and less disturbance postfeed, but she could never catch up on lost sleep. She resorted to lying down to prevent herself from falling down during her efforts to feed the new baby during the night hours. She even slept through the feeding, only vaguely aware of the tingling sensation in her chest as the let-down reflex stimulated the flow and produced more milk.

She wondered how baby Ellie could possibly be hungry. As the milk gushed down her throat, Ellie automatically began swallowing away in her sleep. She didn’t even need to suck! She treated poor Mummy like a dummy. The irony of it all was despicable! Indy reasoned with herself that surely her lying asleep while feeding the baby was safer than dropping her on the floor. If she had happened to fall asleep while sitting up, that’s what would have happened.

Cosleeping is never recommended by baby experts. It’s unsafe for helpless infants, whose exhausted parent may accidently roll onto and suffocate them! Controlled crying is another necessary learned behaviour, one that establishes good sleep patterns. That would have to be the compromise for now. Greedy Ellie napped while still attached and suckling.

Could this kid be capable of such manipulation at such an early age? People commented on Ellie’s wise, old eyes. She’s been here before, they’d say. What did that mean? Meanwhile, it would be survival mode for Indy. Those experts may be right, but it just wasn’t practical or realistic to do everything by the book.

Life is a compromise between catching fleeting glimpses of reality and going mad from sleep deprivation.

Cassie had to be told only once that the baby was hungry again. During that time, she stayed in her room, entertained herself, and never made a fuss. In fact, Cassie’s little flip-out lounge became Indy’s bed on the night-feeding run! It was one of the temporary rescue remedies that became the norm for a while.

Pete, in desperation for uninterrupted sleep to help cope with his work demands, purchased an old wreck of a caravan to sleep in. He parked it in the front yard. He and Indy were renting a small house while they built their dream home. Unfortunately, the yard had no drive-through access to the back, where it would have definitely been quieter. Pete just hoped no drunken driver going past would have a lapse in concentration and crash into his caravan.

Yes, it was survival mode for everyone in those early months. One day, the bottom of Ellie’s foot brushed against Pete’s arm. Her foot was dripping wet with sweat, as were her little hands. Because it was summertime, maybe some strange baby cooling-off process had activated? After that, Indy and Pete noticed this frequently to be the case with Ellie. Nobody else’s baby seemed to sweat profusely—and Cassie hadn’t done it.

We’ll have to be careful once she gets more mobile, or she’ll slip and slide all over the place, Pete observed.

Because of her odd physical symptom, they took to examining her feet more intently, massaging the tiny toes, rubbing the ball of each foot, and gently squeezing the sides of the heels. Everything looked as normal as on any other foot they’d ever seen. Within two minutes of the massage, Ellie fell asleep.

Finally, there appeared to be a modest breakthrough for hyper-wakeful Ellie. Her sleep switch became accessible on demand. And to think that only by pure chance had her parents discovered it at all. Even the baby wrap, a veritable straitjacket, had failed to outlast her wriggles!

Chapter 3

Skills and Spills

Where’s the sandpit? Cassie enquired. Maybe there’d be some bugs! Slaters with their funny, wriggly legs could roll themselves into little round balls! Or she might find snails or worms if nothing else was forthcoming. Cassie would collect those especially for Ellie, which kept her little sister away from her important stuff. She shoved the wriggly treasures in her pockets till she got home.

Cassie played with her captive friends under her bed on the carpet. She had lots of hiding spots for all manner of collectibles that she deemed to be valuable. Indy despaired over the bedlam. She vacuumed up the overflow regularly. Cassie never seemed to notice. The mere mention of any kind of tidying up the room seemed to overwhelm and drain every drop of energy from poor little Cassie.

As if hypnotised, the girl would drop into an instantaneous, coma-like sleep. Tidy your room equalled Go to sleep. The trigger words switched her off. Indy wished it would work on Ellie. But then again, Ellie loved nothing more than to help clean, and right now Indy needed all the help she could get!

The wide variety of treasure Cassie collected included a diverse range of materials. When they were lined up in neat rows and separated into colours, shapes, or sizes, she seemed to draw great satisfaction from them. Indy couldn’t quite determine whether it was the colours or the textures of the objects that most captivated Cassie’s attention. She had ATM receipts (collected from the shops) of total strangers, beanbag beans, price-tag stickers (removed from items at the shops), leaves, feathers, cicada shells, Christmas beetles, pebbles, chunks of concrete, fabric, stamps, beads, buttons, etc.

Never bored, Cassie could entertain herself with her objects for hours. While her little sister wanted the latest dolls and fairy costumes, Cassie was thrilled with a bag of $2 glass beads, polished pebbles, or marbles. Indy soon learned to check Cassie’s pockets and rescue nature from her tough love. Some items would inevitably make it through the door and into the desolate, pink-marbled-carpet jungle.

The rushing water of the bubbling washing machine unfortunately drowned those creatures that survived the pocket search. Indy tried to remind the kids that life for bugs ended badly indoors. Even though they were protected from the elements inside, bugs needed more than that to survive. This meant not removing them from their own unique habitats in the first place. That preserved their ecosystems, a lesson Indy learnt in her own childhood.

I used to like to watch and play with baby beach crabs, she revealed to a busy Cassie. One day at low tide, the seagulls tracked down some stragglers that were trapped in the seaside rock pools. I got angry as I watched them get gobbled up by the naughty birds for afternoon tea. So I rescued a few and took them home to look after them better than the wild had.

Cassie’s attention drifted back to her bugs.

What do you think happened next? Indy asked enthusiastically.

Cassie jumped, startled by Indy’s animated efforts.

I had to smuggle them in, as I didn’t want to have to share them. I made a pretty shell garden for them to live in. It seemed like a good, exciting idea at the time, Indy added, staring off into the distance.

Cassie silently tidied stray wisps of grass and dirt.

The crabs escaped. My garden felt just like jail to them.

Are bugs crabs? Cassie whispered.

No. Probably related, though, Indy said, sighing. "The crabs began their desperate search for the big ocean and their friends. Nothing could replace their real home. Other things distracted me, and I soon forgot all about the crabs. The poor little things were hungry and lost. They only made it to the lounge room. Too weak to continue, they starved to death.

The seagulls might have seemed mean, but they were just trying to survive. At least it would be a quick end for the crab if it were eaten by one. What I did to them turned out much worse, she confessed. When the distinct stench of something dead began to filter through the house, my mum began to search. What do you think she found? Indy shuddered as she remembered the foul odour of death.

Cassie looked up with a grin.

Indy said, Mum jumped up and down like I do sometimes. Very cranky! ‘You rotten kids are driving me stark, staring, raving mad,’ she used to yell, all annoyed. Indy had begun to understand why her mother used to say that so much.

The first few days of kindergarten came and went without any difficulties. All the kids in Cassie’s class wore name tags with transport arrangements written on them. This helped minimise confusion and anxieties for students and staff at the day’s end. "Keeping calm is the key to organisation and success," Mrs. Vindin had said.

The usual push for parent volunteers to assist with reading and associated activities came next. Indy felt obliged to offer, as long as the school could cope with three-year-old Ellie getting involved or, more likely, in the way. No problem, the school had said.

Must be a fairly common excuse, or else they’re really desperate for helpers, Indy mused.

Cassie’s transition to big school had gone so well that it seemed appropriate to introduce the next concept. She would now travel to and from school on the bus.

The school had a system of bus buddies to assist the younger travellers. They’d make sure Cassie got on the right bus and off at the right stop. This also would boost her independence and confidence. I think just riding home on the bus will be a good start for her first day! Indy declared to Pete.

Each step of progress warranted adequate reward, and chocolate (along with its brightly coloured wrapper, in Cassie’s case) always inspired! Indy drove to the bus stop and patiently waited. A thunderstorm had struck earlier in the afternoon. Although it still rained intermittently, the sun now shone brightly again. She watched the bus in the distance as it rounded the bend some two hundred metres up the road. She heard a strange sound, which gradually grew louder.

Perhaps a dejected dog howled its lonely tune or reprimanded some distant siren? The noise whistled and whined as the air currents chopped and changed at whim. Could mechanical abnormalities cause such a commotion in the bus motor? Intermittent raindrops lightly drummed an irregular rhythm on Indy’s car’s windscreen. Perhaps the wind on the other side of the hill had changed direction again.

In the next minutes, the wind would probably rush its way back through the leaves of the nearby gum trees before the next cloudburst overhead. Maybe it’s just the random sounds of passing traffic, after all? It wasn’t clearly any of these things. Probably just my imagination playing tricks on me. Chuckling to herself, Indy let her thoughts get the better of her.

The bus eased to a stop, and the door sprang open. The strange noise doubled in volume as Cassie emerged, all but cried out. Her red cheeks glistened where tears had cascaded down the swollen contours of her face. The two bus buddies had tried valiantly to comfort the distraught little girl. Apparently, a loud thunderclap had coincided with Cassie’s departure from the school grounds.

Figure 3. Storm brewing on the horizon.

Cassie’s grand debut on the bus had certainly turned out to be a memorable event! Fear of storms isn’t all that unusual in small children. How unfortunate that Cassie’s fear would have to be tested by such a robust thunderstorm today, of all days. Its intensity was far more than she’d ever handled before. She tried to eat chocolate while she sniffed and dribbled the few remaining tears she still possessed. Exhaustion from the anxiety and crying created an instant mess.

The scenario definitely had the makings of a great distraction, though. She had completed the bus ride, which warranted reward. It was memorable for all the wrong reasons, but hopefully it would be sweetened by chocolate. The short drive home saw her quickly succumb to her fatigue. Cassie took particular interest in weather reports for the following days and weeks.

Chapter 4

Trigger-Happy

By the end of term 1, it became apparent that Cassie’s behaviour at school had been a little less ordinary than that of her peers. She refused to keep her shoes on in the classroom and insisted on sitting cross-legged in the unusual lotus position, a commonly practiced yoga posture. Cassie neither practised nor knew of yoga.

With her feet placed on opposing thighs, she would proceed to stick her hands in her socks with her feet or else remove her socks altogether.

She had always liked to sit like this at home, too. Indy and Pete had thought nothing of it. Pete had double-jointed thumbs, so perhaps Cassie also possessed a little more flexibility? She liked to sit in that posture, whether seated on the floor or on her chair. She refused to sit normally. It interfered not only with her classmates’ sitting space, but also with her ability to participate in classroom activities.

She’d discard her shoes and socks and then proceed to play with her toes, cleaning out any dirt and massaging her toes or feet wherever she was and whenever she felt like it. The poor teacher requested repeatedly that she sit properly and keep her shoes on her feet. All such requests were completely ignored! As if Cassie were in a trance, she totally disregarded the teacher’s requests. This undermined the teacher’s authority.

The little yoga master would assume her lotus posture, remove her shoes, and trance. Like a ritual, an unwritten screenplay she must run through, the disrespectful behaviours continued. Nothing could prevent or interrupt them. As she became more familiar with her school environment, Cassie increased her insolent actions. She asked her teacher to tickle her back. Cassie would lift her dress over her head to allow the best access to her skin.

Mortified, the teacher encouraged Cassie to cover up as the other students giggled at the show Cassie provided. Cassie focussed only on getting the tickle on her back that her skin seemed to crave. She also asked fellow students to tickle her back. On parent-teacher night, Cassie’s parents were allocated a double time slot.

The school principal, Mr. Morris, and the special ed teacher, Mrs. Wilson, just happened to be sitting in on their interview. Was it an odd coincidence? They looked friendly enough to begin with. It soon emerged that they were not there just for decoration or even to talk about Cassie’s unwillingness to modify her behaviour in regard to keeping her shoes on or her dress down.

"Cassie’s behaviour has caused concerns, and we think it is quite abnormal. We think that she has a problem."

The principal and teacher presented an extensive list of those behaviours, which also appeared on Cassie’s school report.

She scratches children when angry.

She throws articles across the classroom when angry.

She is sneaky, both in and out of the classroom, when she thinks she is not being observed.

Her oppositional behaviour manifests as open defiance and a refusal to speak when spoken to.

At times, she hoards trivial things, even rubbish.

She scribbles on an activity and is generally untidy in any written work.

She does not often respond to requests from the teacher.

She regularly acts inappropriately.

She tends to become possessive with her peers and then often acts aggressively towards them for no apparent reason.

She has attacked older children with sticks and rocks.

She cries and acts afraid when a strange or new situation arises (e.g., parent help in the classroom, casual teachers, etc.).

We recommend a thorough paediatric assessment. If that is normal, Cassie should then have a neuropsychological screening. Good day to you, and good luck.

How do you expect parents to target and reinforce acceptable behaviours for school if you don’t inform them as the unacceptable ones happen? Indy enquired.

Having said their piece, the staff had nothing further to add. Dumbfounded, Indy and Pete tried to comprehend such an oversight. At least then, there’s a better chance that the incident would be in a context of the day’s events!

There might have been reasons for Cassie’s behaviour. The sheer number of incidents and the range of behaviours, however, made it seem more like a pattern of escalating violence. This was very strange news to hear about