Parents of young children with autism have stories. They collect them. They chuckle with their partners and spouses and their parents and other autism families and friends about the really funny albeit odd things that their sweet babies, toddlers, preschoolers do. And then. One day. They learn there's a reason for all this odd behavior. Odd behavior like:

Running in circles while pounding their little bare tootsies to the floor; watching obsessively as the toilet water circles round and around down the drain–tub water, same thing; or being intolerant when said toilet flushes or flushing it over and over and over.

Those were on our list but so were the following: The same pattern-direction–one way only–Grace ran in our home's circular floor plan. How she couldn't stand the sound of blenders. You'd a thought we were given her by her blood curdling screams. The garbage disposal had a similar effect. Eventually, she developed her own coping mechanism. When she heard the sink water turned on, she'd run to the sofa, sit on her hands and stiffen her body, bracing for the scary, loud noise. Then there was the stage when she "perseverated" (a fancy word for obsessed) on spatulas, peering through their slots when held closely to her face. I remember the days when my toddler would pitch a fit if I didn't sing to her when I started the car and proceeded to where we were going–she strapped safely into her car seat behind me. She'd also protest mightily as early as nine months of age when I turned away from instead of back toward home about a mile or two out.

And then there were fans. At five months, she and I joined her father (The Wuzband) on a business trip to Tuscon. We walked into a restaurant that had fans. She nearly did a back flip out of her father's arms looking up at it as it spun.

Just now, at 17, she walked off the bus, coming in from the rain. I closed the door behind her and she stood there, staring above my head through the glass French door. I looked at her, seeing her gaze off in the distance. I turned around and there it was. Our neighbor, across the patio had on their porch fan. At this age, even, she's still mesmerized by fans.

And, I know now, what I didn't know then when she was a wee tyke, there's a reason for this odd fascination. And it's all embedded in her complex disAbility called autism.

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Key: Pounding the floor with each step is "gathering input," and soothing an unevenly modulated sensory system. Toilets and drains fascinate because of the visual, repetitive circular pattern and the white noise generated–which can also frighten and overstimulate. Pattern repetition provides sameness and predictability in an world unpredictable to a person with autism who processes information differently. Blenders, disposals and other loud noises can cause physical pain to the unevenly modulated sensory system that may be auditorily defensive. Music often soothes and Grace's demand for it each time we rode in the car was her need for predictability, as with when we didn't go home the same way–and also a demonstration with the often extraordinary sense of geographical skills exercised by many individuals on the spectrum. Spatulas, in our case, plus shadows, angles, peripheral vision, et cetera, can be stimulatory, scary and visually distorted by the sensory system. And, fans are a repetitive, stimulatory pattern and motion.)

Photo, above: Leisa A. Hammett; the contents of Grace's pockets after school recently. She's always been a floor sweeper, much to my annoyance. She also "lifts" things. I don't know where she got these. Objects held, especially, provide "deep pressure" (soothing) tactile input, and also the satisfying stimulus of collecting.

What are your autism stories?