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When I quit my job to stay home with my then 13-month-old daughter, I began to read childhood enrichment
articles to learn how to teach her. I was most intrigued by the ideas and tips to stimulate her imagination,
creativity, and intelligence through simple sensory input.
She had recently begun walking, so I thought to take her on a morning walk when the Houston air was not too
stifling. Emerging from our front door, we toddled down one step, and, literally and figuratively, she and I took
off from there.
Barefoot, to experience temperature, texture and input to her sense of balance, we crossed from the warm
cement to a shady sidewalk running between the apartments. I stooped to her level to experience what she was
sensing. What a different perspective my daughter was treated to! I pointed out shadows and patterns on
buildings and grass, butterflies on bright flowers, and ants scurrying across the sidewalk into the grooves of
the cement. I narrated and labeled everything that caught her eye, and pointed out objects and sounds for her to
notice. I taught her to be quiet and listen-to the hum of insects, to voices in various languages, to car motors
on the street and planes overhead.
Every day, as we walked along that sidewalk, my daughter’s powers of observation, vocabulary, and
communication increased. She became an adept communicator, voicing her thoughts and questions almost
continuously.
We were in the swimming pool, where she felt the pressure and the coolness of water and bubbles against her
skin. I sang songs, dipped her back and forth, and bounced her on my lap. We looked up at the cloud-painted
sky, the sun through the tree leaves, and trails made by jets using Houston International Airport.
Eventually, we began taking the stroller to her Daddy’s office building. On the way, I would point out police
cars, city and school buses, and the pigeons that lived under Beltway 8. We would stop at business buildings
along the way, enjoying the cool breeze and the dancing display of light on water in the courtyard fountains.
Above us, we could hear the birds singing and watch them, balancing on the overhead wire and flying from
one tree-lined side of the road to the other.
Some days, we sat outside and lined up rocks according to size and color, introducing her to adding,
subtracting, categorizing, and collecting concepts. I stroked her face, feet, arms and elbows with leaves and
petals of different textures.
In our town home, I put a gate on the third step so she could practice ascending and descending the stairs. At
mealtimes, she ate at her high-chair in front of our sliding glass doors, perpendicular to a full-length mirror
along the length of the wall. I would point out the rainbows formed by the light hitting the beveled glass,
creating a rainbow line, up from the floor, to the table and onto the wall. She and I delighted in playing Peek-a-
Boo with the rainbow, making it disappear.
I constantly labeled everything I was doing, touching, seeing, and hearing. I encouraged her to touch, see and
hear, as well. This was the beginning of my daughter’s sensory experiences and of my growing belief in how
vital these experiences were to her development.
I found this attention to sensory input to be essential when my son was born with congenital adrenal
hyperplasia and almost complete agenesis of the corpus callosum. The corpus callosum connects the left and
right brain hemispheres, and my self-defined sensory stimulation program was extremely beneficial. I carried
him around in a Dr. Sears Baby Sling, keeping him close to my body so he could feel my movement and
heartbeat. Further, I incorporated a flexibility program for him, singing, “Wheels on the Bus” while crossing his
arms and over his trunk and midline, and raising his arms over his head. My son joined our excursions at about
three months old, riding face up to the sky, taking in the sights, sounds, language and sensory input of the
environment. I continued his sister’s program and added special age-appropriate touches for his needs to help
his brain re-structure itself, creating new connections that would otherwise be lacking. When he grew bigger
but still could not walk, I invested in a forward facing baby carrier to allow him to continuously observe his
sister as well as his environment.
My children have grown into a high-functioning first grader and preschooler. My son is doing so well that the
local school refuses to provide enrichment services to preclude developmental delay. I have grown into a
sensory stimulation advocate and believe it is truly the one basic method that all parents and caregivers can
incorporate daily to ensure maximum intellectual benefits for developing children.
articles to learn how to teach her. I was most intrigued by the ideas and tips to stimulate her imagination,
creativity, and intelligence through simple sensory input.
She had recently begun walking, so I thought to take her on a morning walk when the Houston air was not too
stifling. Emerging from our front door, we toddled down one step, and, literally and figuratively, she and I took
off from there.
Barefoot, to experience temperature, texture and input to her sense of balance, we crossed from the warm
cement to a shady sidewalk running between the apartments. I stooped to her level to experience what she was
sensing. What a different perspective my daughter was treated to! I pointed out shadows and patterns on
buildings and grass, butterflies on bright flowers, and ants scurrying across the sidewalk into the grooves of
the cement. I narrated and labeled everything that caught her eye, and pointed out objects and sounds for her to
notice. I taught her to be quiet and listen-to the hum of insects, to voices in various languages, to car motors
on the street and planes overhead.
Every day, as we walked along that sidewalk, my daughter’s powers of observation, vocabulary, and
communication increased. She became an adept communicator, voicing her thoughts and questions almost
continuously.
We were in the swimming pool, where she felt the pressure and the coolness of water and bubbles against her
skin. I sang songs, dipped her back and forth, and bounced her on my lap. We looked up at the cloud-painted
sky, the sun through the tree leaves, and trails made by jets using Houston International Airport.
Eventually, we began taking the stroller to her Daddy’s office building. On the way, I would point out police
cars, city and school buses, and the pigeons that lived under Beltway 8. We would stop at business buildings
along the way, enjoying the cool breeze and the dancing display of light on water in the courtyard fountains.
Above us, we could hear the birds singing and watch them, balancing on the overhead wire and flying from
one tree-lined side of the road to the other.
Some days, we sat outside and lined up rocks according to size and color, introducing her to adding,
subtracting, categorizing, and collecting concepts. I stroked her face, feet, arms and elbows with leaves and
petals of different textures.
In our town home, I put a gate on the third step so she could practice ascending and descending the stairs. At
mealtimes, she ate at her high-chair in front of our sliding glass doors, perpendicular to a full-length mirror
along the length of the wall. I would point out the rainbows formed by the light hitting the beveled glass,
creating a rainbow line, up from the floor, to the table and onto the wall. She and I delighted in playing Peek-a-
Boo with the rainbow, making it disappear.
I constantly labeled everything I was doing, touching, seeing, and hearing. I encouraged her to touch, see and
hear, as well. This was the beginning of my daughter’s sensory experiences and of my growing belief in how
vital these experiences were to her development.
I found this attention to sensory input to be essential when my son was born with congenital adrenal
hyperplasia and almost complete agenesis of the corpus callosum. The corpus callosum connects the left and
right brain hemispheres, and my self-defined sensory stimulation program was extremely beneficial. I carried
him around in a Dr. Sears Baby Sling, keeping him close to my body so he could feel my movement and
heartbeat. Further, I incorporated a flexibility program for him, singing, “Wheels on the Bus” while crossing his
arms and over his trunk and midline, and raising his arms over his head. My son joined our excursions at about
three months old, riding face up to the sky, taking in the sights, sounds, language and sensory input of the
environment. I continued his sister’s program and added special age-appropriate touches for his needs to help
his brain re-structure itself, creating new connections that would otherwise be lacking. When he grew bigger
but still could not walk, I invested in a forward facing baby carrier to allow him to continuously observe his
sister as well as his environment.
My children have grown into a high-functioning first grader and preschooler. My son is doing so well that the
local school refuses to provide enrichment services to preclude developmental delay. I have grown into a
sensory stimulation advocate and believe it is truly the one basic method that all parents and caregivers can
incorporate daily to ensure maximum intellectual benefits for developing children.
 |  |  |
| S.I. Focus, Summer, 2004 |