The first time I saw this sensory training oral sponge stick on the rehabilitation room's treatment tray, my child was clinging tightly to my neck, his whole body rigid. Everything else on the tray looked dull gray, but its plum blossom-shaped sponge head stood out brightly, soft and attached smoothly to the slick handle. It didn't look like the cold, clinical tools usually found in hospitals; instead, it resembled an edible cotton candy.
Later, I learned this sensory training oral sponge stick was specifically designed for children's oral training. We had tried hard plastic chew toys before, but the moment it touched his gums, he let out a loud "Wah!" and cried. After that, he'd turn his head away at the sight of a spoon, and mealtimes became a battle. The therapist picked up this sponge stick and gently tapped it on the back of my hand. "See," she said, pressing harder to show how it yielded, "it sinks in on itself. The child won't feel poked by something hard."
The handle length was just right, allowing me to reach easily into his mouth without straining my back. The first time I used the sponge stick, my heart pounded, fearing he would fuss again. Unexpectedly, when the plum blossom-shaped sponge head touched the corner of his mouth, he didn't pull away. Maybe the red color was pleasing, or perhaps the soft sponge tickled his cheek, but he suddenly let out a "pfft" of laughter. Drool dripped down his chin onto my hand – warm and wet – and a wave of relief washed over me.
Now, every morning after brushing his teeth, he opens his mouth willingly, waiting for this "little red flower" – the sensory training oral sponge stick. The sponge becomes even softer when soaked in warm water. As I gently rotate it along his gums, I can feel his little tongue pressing lightly against it. Once, he suddenly reached out, grabbed the handle, and tried to guide it into his mouth himself. Though he clumsily rubbed it against his face, my eyes secretly welled up – this was the first time he had actively sought out a training tool.
The handle always stays clean; a quick rinse under water leaves it smooth and slick. Unlike other instruments that require tedious repeated sterilization, it's hassle-free. The small bumps around the plum blossom edge are well-designed – they don't poke the tender mouth tissue but effectively stimulate the muscles that need activation. Seeing him progress from clenching his mouth shut tight to now gently biting and holding this sensory training sponge stick, as if nibbling on something soft, made me realize that a good training tool doesn't make a child feel like they are "being trained."
In the evenings, when the slanting sun streams into the room, our shadows often grace the wall: he curls up on my lap, his pink little mouth gently holding that red plum blossom sponge stick, his tongue occasionally giving it an experimental lick, as if savoring a glowing candy. I hold the handle of the sensory training sponge stick steady, and together, we seem to be guarding a slowly growing hope.
