The television/VCR/DVD player have started to bore him now that he's so thoroughly mastered them (he even figured out entirely on his own- with a chair- how to get behind them to switch the audio/video cables from the back of the VCR to the back of the DVD and vice versa when he is ready to view a different type of media, so that when I want the house movie-free I have to hide the cables in another room!)
Naturally, he's turned to the other electronic equipment in the house now. He never really troubled with our computers before, even though we have them on all day every day, and mostly stuck to hitting reset switches (usually right in the middle of hard drives trying to reformat and other such tragedy) or jamming various tools into the manifold orifices of computers on the tech stations waiting for surgery.
A few months ago he unscrewed and "lost" the tiny black antenna off the back of a client's computer (part of the wireless network card) and we combed the house for it unsuccessfully for four days. Tim had resigned to send me on the hour-long drive out to Walmart to replace the whole card assembly at our expense, when it suddenly occurred to me that Ethan is not a thief without a purpose- ever. So what would he have intended for that thing if he had taken it off? Obviously little black antennaes are not standard on the back of machines (AARRGH! It's not the Way Things Are!!!!) but since it was attached so thoroughly, it MUST belong with the computer in SOME way... I popped open the case, and sure enough, he had stuck it back into the case through a small hole in the back left open for an expansion card. Perfectly intact, carefully handled, and with the computer to which it belonged- we should have expected no different.
As I have mentioned before here on the blog, Ethan knows his shapes, colors, numbers, and letters VERY well. Upper AND lower case letters, even recognizing them upside down or backwards. (Wow.) He has recently taken an interest in actually watching us while we work. Unlike his sister, who has a strong need to chatter incessantly and struggle to maintain our attention while we work, Ethan will sit right between us and watch quietly over our shoulder as we type or surf or what have you (he has even developed a remarkably accurate sound that replicates the noise of speedy typing).
But he's been watching. It only took a few times of walking out of the office for a minute and coming back to find that he had made fifteen new shortcuts to nowhere on my desktop, or had decided to send a nonsense IM (instant message) to a client at an attorney's office, to realize that we needed to lock our screen if we were going to step away from them even for a second. Our computers are networked (for anyone not computer literate) and so each user has a profile that they log in with. Since Tim uses several computers concurrently during the day while working, he is most often logged in as Administrator. So, when we lock our screens, a little dialog box pops up with the user name "Administrator" typed into one field, and a blank field waiting for the appropriate password. Every time we leave the office, he's in there like a flash, trying to appease that ever-present, ever-demanding "rectangyang" (as he calls it). We have found everything from his alphabet typed over and over, interspersed with numbers 1-9, or permutations thereof (such as 12131415161718191021222324252627282920) which pleased us, but was no real surprise to us. He started using other keys appropriately (like backspace, or when he didn't want to backspace the 300+ characters he had typed into the username field, he used "TAB" to switch between fields until the block of text was highlighted and THEN hit backspace to delete them all at once). He started fiddling with the mouse, watching it move when he moved it. Then it happened.
He typed "admnxstaori."
And he kept doing it, a little different, and a little more like "administrator" each time. We quietly observed as every day he got closer, not intervening. When he was consistantly typing "administao," we decided to help him, just a little. I showed him, once, slowly, our password. He typed it perfectly, and now gets it right every time. Two days after that, he got "administrator" right and logged onto my machine while I was in the bathroom, and now we're in for it!
We started deleting "Administrator" before we walked away, but he could do it from memory now without a hitch. So, we sneakily hit CAPS LOCK before we walked away. Now he could type it perfectly but not get in. Three days ago I found "admInIsTraTOr" in the username field. I guess he figured out the SHIFT key!
Tim and I are in a quandary. We want to encourage Ethan to figure things out, but every time we raise the bar he gets better at jumping. Now what do we do if we have important work in progress and need to answer the door or heat up our coffee?
A few days a week, I have the kids gather around the computer with me and explore the universe at Neopets.com, which Ethan simply adores. They haven't developed the skills to play the games on their own, but enjoy watching and participating. We've this week started allowing him and Ti'anna an hour or so to play on a game site built for small kids called Herman's Homepage, and Ethan has developed considerable mouse skills in only three days. He plays puzzles, memory games, counting games, and more all by himself without coaching. Yesterday, I allowed him to play while I was cooking dinner, and he ran out every couple minutes to get me, babbling nonsense punctuated by the word "help." He led me by the hand and showed me he had accidentally brought up a dialog box by hitting the right mouse button or had brought up a blank email somehow and needed me to return him to his game. This morning, I found this:
Click for a larger imageI guess he was done playing with Herman, and wanted to try Neopets out himself... Notice the attempt at Google, which I probably type 6+ times a day, and the perfect "administrator."
And all this from a little fellow who is practically non-verbal!
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