Adventures in Rigidity

A few days ago, I bought some new laundry baskets. The kids had outgrown the baskets I purchased when they were babies and I was tired of seeing the overflow of clothes on the floor. I was also fed up with giving reminders to pick up pajamas and underwear off the bathroom floor. The three-piece basket set from Sam’s Club seemed a perfect solution.

The girls were thrilled with their new basket and the one in the bathroom proved the answer to the long-standing pajama problem. Caleb, on the other hand, resisted the change. While most children cope quite easily with such a non-event as a new hamper, even the smallest changes in routine bother our boy. He argued with me telling me he liked the old one just fine and didn’t want a new basket. I presented all the logical reasons to love the new one but Caleb held firm in his resistance. I finally acknowledged the discomfort of the change but informed him that he did not have a choice.

First thing the next morning, Caleb expressed that he had come up with a great idea. (Evidently he’d been thinking long and hard about this new situation.) He proposed that he make use of both baskets; he’d fill the old one to capacity and then transfer its contents to the larger one. I hope he didn’t lose too much sleep over it because I maintained my position that the new basket was going to be the only one used for laundry. I told him the smaller one could be kept in the closet and used to store his stuffed animals. Though he has occasionally commented about the sadness caused by this change, he handled the disappointment fairly well.

Rigidity is a trait common to all children with Asperger’s syndrome. It is a coping strategy used to deal with the anxiety, intensity and sensory processing issues they face every day. It has taken me years to understand how real these feelings are and I still struggle to have patience with them. Caleb has to be taught to be flexible as he is constantly forced out of the comforts of his own little world and into the world the rest of us live in. He understands his world, he’s created his own rules and it’s simply more comfortable there. When something as trivial as a laundry basket is removed from his world, it causes anxiety.

For me, the challenge is deciding which rigid behaviors are acceptable and which are battles worth fighting. The need to have a lot of ice in every drink, even if it is directly out of the fridge, or having a particular straw when drinking a smoothie are manifestations of anxiety and Caleb-created rules in which I allow him to indulge. These behaviors don’t bother anyone else or violate any real world rules. However, the issues of food temperature and texture are some I find quite bothersome. Some days I’m just a whole lot more understanding than others. Other times, like yesterday morning, I don’t react appropriately and we both end up feeling terrible.

Caleb has very specific ideas about his toast. He likes it dark in color and piping hot. He often makes it himself but I did it for him yesterday morning. While he was busy drinking hot cocoa, his toast sat cooling on a plate. I was busy making lunches and when I noticed that he hadn’t started eating yet, gave him a blunt reminder. He tapped the bread carefully with one finger and announced that he wasn’t going to eat it because it was too cold. I lost it. I ranted about his ridiculous standards but since I didn’t want him going to school hungry, I begrudgingly put the toast back in the toaster to reheat it. We were now running late but I continued to rant about how this would be handled the next time as he finished his toast while putting on his shoes, coat and backpack all at the same time. He went off to school in a sour mood and I was left feeling guilty.

Later that afternoon, I went to the school to volunteer. As I was leaving Caleb’s class, his teacher explained that he had been struggling with an obsession to use only very sharp pencils. I had noticed the same behavior at home; he always sharpens his pencil before beginning homework. (And if working with a packet of paper, the sheet on which he is writing must be placed directly on the table.) But this pencil obsession is clearly a distraction at school and a habit that needs addressing. I like his teacher, I think there are many good things about her, but I do feel that she sometimes enables Caleb’s rigid actions. She explained that her solution was to make sure she placed a freshly sharpened pencil on his desk at each recess. I appreciate her concern for my son’s anxiety but I told her I would think about it and get back to her with a plan. My experience has taught me that a better solution is to establish rules for how many times a day a pencil can be sharpened or exchanged, clearly explain the consequences and then leave the responsibility on Caleb to act for himself.

This morning, I was determined not to repeat the same breakfast mistakes so I came to the kitchen armed with a plan. First, he would make his own toast and second, he was going to abide by the rule that the toast would be consumed right away and if it was allowed to cool, it would have to be eaten cold. He needed to know ahead of time that he was in charge of his choice but that reheating the toast was not one of them. It was a successful morning complete with good-bye kisses and pleasant farewells.

This is just a sampling of the adventures we encounter every day. Dealing with Caleb’s rigidity can be very frustrating and tiresome. We are each uncomfortable with the rules of the other’s world. We just have to remember to celebrate even the smallest of victories as we grow in our understanding of one other. Caleb is a good hearted boy with many delightful qualities. He has taught me much about patience and sympathy. We are both works in progress.