Samantha has always been particular about certain things. Tina and I had no idea that this was due to her having a sensory processing disorder. No one knew...not even her doctors. It was an "eight year puzzle" that was solved in a single day.

When it comes to clothes, food, and toys, Samantha's choices have always been limited. Initially, we did not see a pattern in all this behavior. We simply thought that Samantha was extremely "picky" about what she wore, ate, and played with.

Two of Samantha's five senses are extremely over-active. When it comes to her brain processing the messages from her nervous system, any messages involving touch, and smell, become totally confused.

For Example, Samantha will not wear pants that fit too snugly around her waist. As a toddler, she got used to the way a certain pair of pants fit...and now, years later, that certain "feel" is the yard stick by which every single pair of pants is measured.

When it comes to food, there are certain smells and textures that Samantha is comfortable with. The taste of a banana might be quite pleasant to Samantha, but the feel of its texture in her mouth, would cause her to gag.

The most alarming attribute of a child who suffers from a sensory processing disorder, is their sense of "personal space". Any unexpected movement, touch, or gesture toward the child can, more often than not, be processed as an unwelcomed invasion of their personal space.

For example, if I walked up behind Samantha, and began to rub her back, shoulders, and arms, she would begin to shift, and squirm about, in total discomfort. On the ohter hand, if I apprroach Samantha from the front, and allow her to see what is coming, she has learned to prepare to accept this "temporary invasion" as a good thing.

All of these attributes are dramatically apparent when it comes to Samantha's toys.

Over the past eight years, I have watched Samantha "adopt" several different toys. It is an experience that is difficult to describe...almost sacred, in a sense. Though I have watched, with amazement, I have never completely gotten used to the whole process.

When Samantha chooses a toy, it literally becomes an extension of her person. Initially, she spends hours getting to know every inch of this new friend...smelling, feeling, and studying, in great detail, its every detail. The only similiarity in these toys has been that they have always been dolls, or tiny plastic figures.

Once she has chosen a new toy, it goes everywhere she does. When she goes to school, it goes with her...in her book bag. When she is not in school, it is in her hands. At bedtime, it goes to bed with her. If she awakens in the night, she has to be able to reach for it...and touch it...it has to be near her! If she cannot find it, her world stops until it is found.

Her latest toy is a little plastic figurine. It is a little soldier who has movable joints. He has been her personal toy for nearly a year. I have watched her study his features for hours...rubbing his face, bending his arms and legs, familiarizing herself with every detail of his little body. I have awakened to the sound of her bending his little arms and legs, in the middle of the night. I have heard her moan and cry out when, at some point in the night, they have become separated.

A few weeks ago, one of his legs came off...his little joints, finally worn beyond proper function, due to the constant bending and rubbing by Samantha. Each time, Mommy has been able to re-attach the leg...that is, until yesterday. It fell off, somewhere in the house...lost, forever...he has served her well...and for that, I am thankful.

Yesterday, Sam started the adoption process anew. She has chosen a "Barbie" doll...a doll that has bendable arms and legs. You can still hear the creaking of her plastic joints as Sam bends, and unbends them. As I write this, Samantha is walking through the house, holding her new friend...rubbing, touching, smelling...every inch of this lucky little doll. This little molded piece of plastic has been allowed to go where most cannot follow.

All of this makes me wonder about my own mortality. My joints are showing signs of wear, and I find myself, on occasion, wondering how Samantha will handle life without me. It is something that I try not to think about...yet, it is always there, in the back of my mind.

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