The clinical logic behind early detection is compelling. International clinical guidelines, including consensus statements from experts in Australia and the United States, have established that cerebral palsy can be accurately identified in high-risk infants before twelve months of corrected age, and that the diagnostic process can begin as early as three to six months in many cases. This represents a dramatic shift from historical practice, in which diagnosis was often deliberately delayed until the child was one or two years old, on the grounds that the motor picture was not yet clear. That tradition of watchful waiting, however well intentioned, came at a cost: the most effective early interventions, from task-specific motor training to family-centered developmental support, appear to deliver their greatest benefits during the period of maximal neuroplasticity in infancy, precisely the window that delayed diagnosis forecloses.

What the new study addresses is not whether early detection is possible in principle, but whether it can be delivered equitably at the level of a real health service. This distinction matters because the evidence base for early diagnosis has largely been built in specialized research clinics, staffed by small teams of experts, serving families who were often already well connected to tertiary care. Translating that model into routine practice raises a different set of questions. Can referrals be generated from a broad enough base of community clinicians and families to capture children who would otherwise slip through? Can assessment capacity be scaled without diluting quality? And can the service be designed so that families facing socioeconomic disadvantage, geographic isolation, or language barriers are not systematically the last to be seen?

The Hub model tested in the study is structured around a centralized point of access that coordinates the multi-stage assessment pathway recommended in international guidelines. In broad terms, that pathway begins with standardized surveillance and screening of infants with known risk factors, such as preterm birth, perinatal complications, or abnormal neurological findings, and proceeds through general movements assessment, standardized neurological examination using tools such as the Hammersmith Infant Neurological Examination, and, where indicated, confirmatory evaluation using the Hammersmith Infant Functional Motor Exam and magnetic resonance imaging. Each stage refines the probability of cerebral palsy and guides decisions about intervention. The Hub’s role is to hold this pathway together: receiving referrals, triaging infants according to risk, scheduling assessments within clinically meaningful timeframes, and communicating results to families and referrers in a usable form.

Feasibility studies occupy a deliberately modest position in the hierarchy of clinical research, and this one is explicit about its aims. Rather than testing whether the Hub improves long-term motor outcomes, the investigators asked whether the model could be implemented as designed: whether families could be recruited, whether referrals would flow at a sustainable rate, whether the assessment battery could be completed within the intended ages, and whether the service reached the populations it was intended to serve. These questions are unglamorous but decisive. Health services research is littered with interventions that performed well in controlled trials and failed in routine implementation because referral systems, staffing, or family engagement did not behave as the original design assumed. Establishing feasibility first is a way of testing the plumbing before declaring the water safe to drink.

The equity dimension of the study reflects a persistent and well-documented pattern in developmental pediatrics. Children from disadvantaged backgrounds tend to be diagnosed later than their more advantaged peers, even when their risk profiles are similar. The reasons are cumulative: fewer opportunities for developmental surveillance, less familiarity with warning signs among caregivers and some primary care providers, longer waits for specialist appointments, and practical barriers such as travel distance, inflexible work schedules, and the absence of interpreters. A centralized Hub, if designed well, can counteract some of these forces by creating a single, well-publicized entry point with clear referral criteria, by accepting referrals directly from parents and community health workers rather than only from specialists, and by actively monitoring whether the children entering the pathway reflect the diversity of the population at risk.

Technical rigor in the assessment battery is central to the model’s credibility. The prechtl general movements assessment, performed on video in infants under about five months of corrected age, remains one of the strongest single predictors of cerebral palsy in the literature, with the presence of fidgety movements and the absence of cramped-synchronized general movements carrying well-validated prognostic weight. The Hammersmith Infant Neurological Examination complements it with a structured neurological profile, and the Hammersmith Infant Functional Motor Exam provides a direct measure of gross motor function that supports both diagnosis and early intervention planning. Magnetic resonance imaging, particularly sequences sensitive to periventricular and cortical injury, adds etiological and prognostic information. The Hub’s feasibility question, in practical terms, is whether these instruments, which require trained and preferably certified assessors, can be deployed consistently across a service population rather than within a single expert clinic.

The implications of a successfully implemented Hub extend beyond the diagnostic moment itself. Early identification changes what happens next: families receive an accurate explanation of their child’s difficulties sooner, early intervention services can be initiated during the highest-plasticity window, and avoidable secondary complications such as hip dislocation, feeding difficulties, and respiratory illness can be monitored from the outset. There is also a psychological dimension that parents consistently report in the broader literature: an earlier, clear diagnosis, however difficult, is frequently described as preferable to months of vague reassurance followed by a late confirmation of what families had already suspected. A Hub that delivers timely, honest, well-communicated assessments addresses that experience directly.

As a feasibility study, the work stops short of claiming improved outcomes, and the authors’ framing is appropriately cautious. The next stages of evaluation would need to track diagnostic accuracy against later confirmed diagnoses, measure time from referral to diagnosis against conventional care, quantify the demographic reach of the service, and, ultimately, assess whether earlier identification translates into better motor, communicative, and participatory outcomes for children. Cost-effectiveness will also matter to health systems weighing investment in centralized assessment capacity against competing priorities. But the study’s central contribution is to demonstrate that the organizational architecture of equitable early detection can be built and operated, not merely theorized.

For clinicians and service planners, the message is that the bottleneck in early cerebral palsy detection is rarely the science; it is the system. Guidelines already specify what should be done and by when. The remaining work is to build referral pathways, assessment capacity, and family-facing communication that carry every at-risk infant into that pathway at the same speed, regardless of circumstance. This feasibility study of an early detection Hub represents a concrete step in that direction, and its publication in Pediatric Research signals that the question of equitable early diagnosis is now being treated as an empirical service-design problem, one that can be tested, refined, and scaled.

Subject of Research: Feasibility of an early detection Hub providing equitable access to cerebral palsy assessments and diagnosis in infants

Article Title: Equitable access to cerebral palsy assessments and diagnosis through an early detection Hub: a feasibility study

Article References: Fletcher, A. A., Kilgour, G., Sandle, M., Kidd, S., Sheppard, A., Unka, S., Korent, W., Fairless, H., Dunn, C., Bennington, K., Swallow, S., Stott, N. S., Battin, M., & Williams, S. (2026). Equitable access to cerebral palsy assessments and diagnosis through an early detection Hub: a feasibility study. Pediatric Research. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41390-026-05495-2

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1038/s41390-026-05495-2

Keywords: cerebral palsy, early detection, feasibility study, equitable access, pediatric research, infant assessment, general movements assessment, Hammersmith Infant Neurological Examination, early intervention, developmental pediatrics, health services, diagnosis

The review, conducted by Khosro Rezaee, Somayeh Abdollahi-Holagh and Mojtaba Ansari of the Department of Biomedical Engineering at Meybod University in Iran, set out to answer a deceptively simple question: which modified-AFO technologies have actually been investigated in neurological rehabilitation, and what kinds of clinical, biomechanical, patient-reported, safety and implementation outcomes does the existing evidence cover? To answer it, the team searched six major databases, including PubMed/MEDLINE, Scopus, Web of Science Core Collection, Embase, the Cochrane Library and IEEE Xplore, capturing peer-reviewed evidence published between January 2018 and April 2026. That window deliberately targeted the most recent era of orthotic innovation, when digital fabrication and wearable sensing began transforming the field.

Methodologically, the review is a scoping exercise rather than a traditional meta-analysis, and the authors are transparent about its boundaries. Eligible primary studies and review-level sources were charted according to population, AFO technology, study design, comparator, outcome domain and implementation characteristics, then synthesized narratively. To avoid inflating the apparent size of the evidence base, primary and review-level sources were analyzed separately, reducing double counting of the same underlying trials. Importantly, the authors did not perform a formal risk-of-bias or certainty-of-evidence assessment, which means the map describes where evidence exists rather than how strong that evidence is, a distinction that matters when interpreting the findings.

After screening, 44 eligible evidence sources made the final map: 29 primary or primary-like studies and 15 review-level publications. The distribution across neurological populations is striking. Stroke dominated the literature, accounting for 14 of the 44 sources, followed by cerebral palsy with 12 and multiple sclerosis with 5. This concentration reflects both the prevalence of these conditions and the characteristic gait impairments they produce. In stroke survivors, hemiparesis often leaves the ankle unable to dorsiflex adequately, producing the classic foot-drop pattern that AFOs are designed to correct. In cerebral palsy, spasticity and contractures create complex, highly individualized ankle-foot deformities, while in multiple sclerosis, fluctuating fatigue and weakness demand devices that can adapt to changing function across the day.

The outcome measures reported across these studies reveal both the strengths and blind spots of the field. Gait speed was the most frequently represented outcome, appearing in 29 of the 44 sources, with ankle kinematics close behind at 26 and step length or symmetry at 25. These are the bread-and-butter metrics of gait laboratories: fast, objective and readily captured with motion-capture systems, instrumented walkways and wearable inertial sensors. Yet the authors found a sharp drop-off when it came to outcomes that matter most to patients in daily life. Quality of life or participation appeared in only 8 sources, safety or adverse-event reporting in just 7, and cost or accessibility in a mere 5. In other words, the field has become exceptionally good at measuring how people walk in a lab while remaining comparatively silent about whether the devices improve lives, cause harm, or are affordable and available to those who need them.

The technology map itself is equally revealing. Conventional and articulated AFOs, the workhorses of clinical practice, enjoyed the broadest clinical representation across the literature. These passive mechanical devices control ankle position through material stiffness and geometric design, and decades of clinical familiarity have built a substantial evidence base around them. Carbon-fiber dynamic AFOs, which store and release energy during gait much like a spring, have also accumulated meaningful clinical data, particularly for foot drop in stroke and multiple sclerosis. By contrast, the newest categories, 3D-printed and customized orthoses, smart or sensor-based devices, and active-assistance systems, were represented by more heterogeneous evidence that was often short-term or oriented toward technical validation rather than clinical outcomes.

This heterogeneity is not surprising given the engineering challenges involved. Additive manufacturing allows orthotists to produce braces tailored to a patient’s exact anatomy, with locally tuned stiffness zones that no off-the-shelf device can match, but the design space is enormous and standardized design guidelines are still emerging. Smart AFOs embed inertial measurement units, pressure sensors or electromyography electrodes to monitor gait in real time, opening the door to remote clinical monitoring and closed-loop control, yet most published studies remain proof-of-concept demonstrations with small samples and brief follow-up. Active-assistance orthoses go further, using actuators to deliver dorsiflexion assistance or plantarflexion control, and hybrid AFO-functional electrical stimulation systems combine mechanical support with timed electrical stimulation of the peroneal nerve. These approaches are technologically dazzling, but the review shows that their clinical evidence remains fragmented and immature compared with conventional devices.

Perhaps the most consequential conclusion of the review is what it does not find. The authors explicitly caution against reading the evidence map as a hierarchy of device effectiveness. Instead, they argue, the findings support individualized interpretation of AFO characteristics: the right device depends on the patient’s specific impairment pattern, goals, environment and resources, not on a universal ranking of technologies. A sophisticated powered orthosis may be transformative for one patient and impractical for another, while a simple articulated brace may deliver the best long-term value for many. This message pushes back against a common temptation in rehabilitation engineering, where novelty is often conflated with superiority, and it underscores the need for comparative studies that pit new technologies against established ones rather than against no-treatment baselines alone.

The review also lays out a clear agenda for the field’s next decade. The authors call for comparative evaluation across device categories, standardized technical reporting so that devices can actually be replicated and compared, and longer-term real-world follow-up that extends beyond the laboratory and the acute study period. They emphasize consistent assessment of patient-centered outcomes, adherence, safety, cost and accessibility, the domains the map shows to be chronically underrepresented. Without such data, clinicians and health systems cannot make informed decisions about which technologies deserve investment, and patients cannot be countheled realistically about what a given device will mean for their independence, comfort and finances. The evidence map thus functions as both a snapshot and a challenge: it shows a field that has successfully spanned the spectrum from passive mechanical control to digitally customized, sensor-integrated and actively assisted systems, while exposing exactly where the scientific foundation is thinnest.

For patients, clinicians and device developers alike, the message is one of cautious optimism. The engineering revolution in ankle-foot orthotics is real, and the tools now exist to personalize, sense and actively assist gait in ways unimaginable a generation ago. But turning that engineering promise into reliable clinical benefit will require the kind of rigorous, patient-centered, long-term comparative research that this review identifies as missing. As wearable technology continues its rapid advance, the evidence map offers researchers a compass: the destination is not more gadgets, but better lives, measured not only in meters per second on a gait lab walkway, but in participation, safety, affordability and the quiet confidence of a steadier step.

Subject of Research: Modified ankle–foot orthosis technologies in neurological rehabilitation, evaluated through a systematic scoping review and evidence map

Article Title: Modified ankle–foot orthoses in neurological rehabilitation: a systematic scoping review and evidence map

Article References: Rezaee, K., Abdollahi-Holagh, S., & Ansari, M. (2026). Modified ankle–foot orthoses in neurological rehabilitation: a systematic scoping review and evidence map. BioMedical Engineering OnLine. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12938-026-01630-6

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1186/s12938-026-01630-6

Keywords: ankle-foot orthosis, neurological rehabilitation, stroke, cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, 3D printing, smart orthosis, functional electrical stimulation, gait analysis, evidence mapping, wearable technology, biomedical engineering

The scale of the underlying need is considerable. The United Nations estimates that 240 million children worldwide live with some form of disability, and cerebral palsy is among the most common, affecting an estimated 2 to 2.5 per 1,000 live births globally. In India, the burden is even heavier, with a pooled prevalence of 2.95 per 1,000 children. Cerebral palsy is a lifelong neurodevelopmental condition caused by damage to the developing brain, primarily affecting movement and posture, and it is frequently accompanied by speech difficulties, feeding problems, sensory impairments and intellectual or behavioural challenges that complicate daily self-care.

Adolescence brings a distinct set of challenges for girls with cerebral palsy. Menstruation and pubertal changes can be difficult to manage when physical limitations interfere with hygiene, and communication barriers may make it hard for caregivers to recognise menstrual pain or other reproductive health concerns. These girls are also more vulnerable to abuse, and many depend entirely on their caregivers during menstruation. Yet previous research, including earlier qualitative work by some of the same authors in Indian tertiary hospital settings, has documented significant caregiver anxiety, discomfort in discussing reproductive health, and the absence of any formal support system. Caregivers often turn to informal social networks for guidance, channels that can circulate incomplete or inaccurate information.

The new study, led by Chithra Babu, Anusree Prabhakaran, Hitesh Shah and Arathi P. Rao, was designed to test whether a structured educational intervention could be woven into existing clinical workflows. Conducted between January and June 2025 at the cerebral palsy clinic of the Department of Paediatric Orthopaedics at a tertiary care referral hospital, the single-arm pretest-posttest pilot recruited 25 caregivers through consecutive sampling during weekly outpatient visits. All were primary caregivers, most were mothers, and all had been caring for their child for more than a decade. Written informed consent was obtained from every participant, and the study was approved by an institutional ethics committee and registered with the Clinical Trial Registry of India.

The intervention itself was deliberately simple. Each caregiver received a single face-to-face session lasting approximately 20 to 25 minutes, delivered by a trained public health professional in a designated room within the clinic. The session covered menstruation, menstrual hygiene, menstrual pain management, pubertal body changes, reproductive safety and the reproductive rights of girls with cerebral palsy. A validated Information, Education and Communication booklet, originally published in English and translated into the local languages Kannada and Malayalam, guided the sessions with visual illustrations and simple text. Delivery followed a strict protocol, with identical content, sequence and duration for every participant, and only participant-initiated questions addressed, to minimise researcher-related bias. Each caregiver left with a printed copy of the booklet for future reference.

Outcomes were measured with a structured questionnaire aligned to the booklet, comprising 13 knowledge items and 12 caregiving intention items rated on five-point Likert scales, content-validated by experts in public health and disability care. Baseline data were collected immediately before the session, and follow-up data were gathered by telephone three months later. Statistical analysis in JAMOVI used paired t-tests to compare pre- and post-intervention scores, with Cohen’s d calculated as the effect size and significance set at p < 0.05.

The results were striking. Mean knowledge scores rose from 41.2 to 62.3 on a scale running from 0 to 65, a change of 21.1 points that was highly statistically significant and corresponded to a very large effect size of Cohen’s d = 5.43. Caregiving intention scores climbed from 41.2 to 57.6 on a 0-to-60 scale, with an effect size of 5.22. Every one of the 25 participants completed the three-month follow-up, most reported consulting the booklet repeatedly, and no dropouts or adverse experiences were recorded. Item-level analysis showed that caregivers came to understand, among other things, that regular menstruation supports bone and heart health, that severe menstrual pain warrants a doctor’s consultation, and that irregular bleeding can be managed with medication. The intervention also corrected persistent misconceptions, including the beliefs that cerebral palsy is hereditary or that it prevents a girl from having healthy children.

Perhaps most notably, the sessions shifted caregivers’ intentions in ways that touch daily practice and long-term outlook. After the intervention, caregivers expressed stronger commitments to helping their daughters use sanitary pads independently, avoiding cotton cloth to reduce infection risk, seeking medical advice for heavy or irregular bleeding, and teaching personal safety skills such as raising an alarm in response to inappropriate behaviour. Caregivers also reported more supportive attitudes toward their daughters’ futures, including marriage, pregnancy and motherhood, domains in which pre-intervention scores were notably low. The authors suggest that the use of local-language materials and personalised one-on-one interaction may have fostered the engagement that made these gains possible.

The authors are careful to frame the findings as preliminary. Because the study had a single-arm design with no concurrent control group, causality cannot be firmly established, and the small sample of 25 participants, recruited without an a priori power calculation, may partly explain the unusually large effect sizes. Self-reported outcomes leave room for social desirability bias, the same researcher delivered the intervention and collected the data, and the questionnaire’s pre-test reliability fell below the commonly recommended threshold of 0.70, while post-test reliability could not be estimated because several items showed zero variance, a ceiling effect. The intervention was also not explicitly grounded in a theoretical framework, which the authors acknowledge may have limited its systematic development. Improvements in knowledge and intention, they note, do not automatically translate into behaviour change; health behaviour theories such as the theory of planned behaviour suggest that attitudes, subjective norms and perceived behavioural control all shape actual practice.

Even with those caveats, the policy implications are compelling. The intervention required minimal time, no additional infrastructure, and was delivered during routine cerebral palsy consultations, meaning it could be carried out by nurses, community health workers or other trained personnel under task-sharing approaches. The authors propose that community-based adaptation through special school staff or Anganwadi workers, India’s grassroots community health workers, could extend the model’s reach. Future research, they write, should employ a randomised controlled design with a larger sample, formal psychometric evaluation of the instrument, separate personnel for intervention delivery and outcome assessment, objective behavioural measures and longer follow-up. If confirmed, a brief reproductive health education session integrated into routine cerebral palsy care could become a scalable, low-cost way to close a long-standing information gap for caregivers of girls with disabilities across low-resource settings worldwide.

Subject of Research: A reproductive health education intervention for caregivers of girls with cerebral palsy in India

Article Title: Disability-inclusive reproductive healthcare: A reproductive health education intervention for caregivers of girls with cerebral palsy in India

Article References: Babu, C., Prabhakaran, A., Shah, H., & Rao, A. P. (2026). Disability-inclusive reproductive healthcare: A reproductive health education intervention for caregivers of girls with cerebral palsy in India. Public Health in Practice, 12, Article 100855. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.puhip.2026.100855

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1016/j.puhip.2026.100855

Keywords: cerebral palsy, reproductive health education, caregivers, menstrual hygiene management, disability-inclusive healthcare, India, pilot study, adolescent girls, public health, low- and middle-income countries, menstruation, health intervention

The review, led by Serena Cacciola of the University of Massachusetts Amherst together with colleagues at the University of South Carolina and the University of Minnesota, set out to map the existing research landscape rather than to pool results statistically. The team systematically searched nine databases for empirical studies published between 2004 and 2024, applying strict inclusion criteria: children had to be between 33 and 72 months old, the sample had to include children with developmental disabilities, and each study had to measure at least two of the three movement behaviors that together fill a child’s 24-hour day. Screening of titles, abstracts, and full texts was completed by two independent reviewers, a safeguard designed to reduce selection bias in which studies made it into the final synthesis.

Twenty articles, the vast majority of them cross-sectional snapshots rather than longitudinal studies, met the criteria. The studies spanned a wide range of developmental domains, including autism spectrum disorder, cerebral palsy, and developmental coordination disorder, among other delays, disorders, and disabilities. That breadth is itself informative, the authors note, because it reflects growing recognition that movement behaviors are not a one-size-fits-all phenomenon: a child with motor impairments from cerebral palsy faces very different barriers to active play than a child with autism who may experience sensory sensitivities or strong preferences for screen-based activities.

The central finding of the review is, in a word, inconsistency. Across the twenty studies, findings on sleep, sedentary behavior, and physical activity were mixed. Some investigations reported statistically significant differences between children with and without developmental disabilities, while others found no differences at all, or produced results that shifted depending on which behavior was measured, how it was quantified, and which diagnostic group was under study. Sleep emerged as one of the more commonly examined behaviors, with several studies suggesting that children with certain developmental conditions may experience more sleep problems or shorter sleep durations, but even here the evidence did not point uniformly in one direction.

This heterogeneity matters because the 24-hour movement behavior framework treats physical activity, sedentary time, and sleep as interconnected rather than independent. Time is a fixed resource: every additional hour of screen-based sedentary behavior is an hour not spent in active play or sleep, and the health effects of these behaviors are thought to interact. International guidelines for preschoolers typically recommend specific daily targets for each behavior, yet the review makes clear that researchers still lack a reliable picture of whether children with developmental disabilities are meeting, exceeding, or falling short of those targets, and whether the patterns seen in older children with disabilities are already visible before school entry.

The methodological details of the included studies help explain the muddled picture. Measurement approaches varied widely, from parent-report questionnaires to accelerometers and other wearable devices, and each approach carries distinct strengths and weaknesses. Parent reports of a child’s activity or sleep can be shaped by recall bias and by the practical realities of caring for a child with high support needs, while objective devices can struggle to capture the sometimes atypical movement patterns of children with motor disabilities. Few studies measured all three behaviors simultaneously, which limits the ability to characterize the full 24-hour cycle that the framework is designed to capture.

The review also highlights a deeper conceptual gap: developmental considerations have largely been absent from previous syntheses. Evidence from older children indicates that differences in movement behaviors between those with and without disabilities may begin to emerge in early childhood, but reviews to date have rarely focused specifically on the preschool window. The authors argue that this period, roughly ages three to five, is critical because habits formed in early childhood tend to track into later life, and because early intervention is generally more effective than remediation after problems become entrenched. Without preschool-specific evidence, clinicians and families are left extrapolating from research on older children that may not apply.

Another limitation the authors identify is the fragmentation of research across diagnostic categories. Studies of children with autism spectrum disorder rarely included children with cerebral palsy, and vice versa, making it difficult to determine whether observed differences in movement behaviors are driven by the specific domain of developmental difference or by broader factors such as family routines, access to inclusive recreational programs, or therapist recommendations. The review’s third research question, whether movement behaviors varied by developmental domain, could only be partially addressed because so few studies made direct comparisons across conditions.

What the review does offer is a roadmap. The authors call for more comprehensive and consistent measurement that considers all three 24-hour movement behaviors together, ideally using validated instruments and, where possible, objective monitoring. They also call for studies that follow children over time, so that researchers can distinguish transient early-childhood patterns from trajectories that persist into school age. Better evidence, they argue, is the prerequisite for designing targeted interventions, whether that means adapted physical activity programs for children with motor impairments, sleep hygiene support for families of children with autism, or strategies to reduce sedentary screen time in ways that accommodate sensory and communication needs.

For parents, educators, and therapists, the immediate takeaway is one of cautious awareness rather than alarm. The review does not establish that preschoolers with developmental disabilities are uniformly less active, more sedentary, or worse sleepers than their peers; rather, it shows that the evidence base is too thin and too variable to say with confidence. What is clear is that movement behaviors in early childhood are measurable, modifiable, and consequential, and that children with developmental disabilities deserve the same rigorous attention to their daily activity, sedentary time, and sleep that has increasingly been extended to typically developing children. Closing that research gap, the authors conclude, is an essential step toward ensuring that every child, regardless of developmental profile, gets the strongest possible start.

Subject of Research: 24-hour movement behaviors in preschool-aged children with developmental disabilities

Article Title: Exploring 24-h movement behaviors in preschool children with developmental disabilities: a scoping review

Article References: Cacciola, S., Burkart, S., Toole, E., Horger, M. N., Woodman, A. C., Kiely, K., Fisher, M., Johnson, E., Salvati, G., Rosas, L., Freedman, S., Fandy, M., & St. Laurent, C. W. (2026). Exploring 24-h movement behaviors in preschool children with developmental disabilities: a scoping review. Journal of Activity, Sedentary and Sleep Behaviors. https://doi.org/10.1186/s44167-026-00106-1

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1186/s44167-026-00106-1

Keywords: physical activity, sedentary behavior, sleep, developmental disabilities, preschool children, early childhood, autism spectrum disorder, cerebral palsy, developmental coordination disorder, scoping review, 24-hour movement behaviors, child health