"Why" Questions, With No Answers

I read somewhere that a mother of a five or six year old child answers around 300 questions a day. Multiply that by the number of days in a year and the number of children around. Sometimes moms get tired of answering questions. Sometimes a mom might even tune some of those little voices right out and stop answering some of those questions. I’ve done it.

The where, how, what, and particularly the why questions can get tiring. And it is especially trying for a mom when a child questions her instructions with “why.” I have been known on occasion to use the old “Because I said so” standby that my own mother sometimes used.

My youngest two are eleven and thirteen so I should be done with the constant questions, but I am not. Because of Sydney’s developmental delay it seems we are stuck there, never able to move on to the next stage. I’m almost certain Sydney is still asking me 300 questions a day, much as a five or six year old would. Sometimes I feel like I am living a life like Bill Murray lived in the movie Groundhog Day. It gets so repetitive. Sometimes, I find myself tuning her out and even asking her to stop asking questions for a few minutes so I can concentrate on the task at hand.

Although Tate also has a developmental delay, his is a different story. Due to autism Tate rarely asked me the why or how questions, or much of anything else when he was younger. And when he did, it was something I celebrated by letting everyone close to us know that it had happened. But lately, Tate has surprised me several times, almost grilling me, about a subject. His why questions are coming more often but they are not usually the typical why questions a younger typically developing child would ask. Tate often wants to know the answers to questions that many of us would not ask.

Yesterday Tate asked me where his older sister was. I explained she was on a road trip, travelling to visit friends. So he pressed me for details, wondering exactly where she was. I was taken aback just a little but was happy to answer. I told Tate what state his sister is in right now. He then said, “How come she wanted to visit friends?” and after that one, “When will she be home?” Because Tate very seldom is interested enough to ask questions about these kinds of things, it was surprising to me. And as often happens, when Tate does something he did not do “on time” it is a giant reminder to me of all the things he SHOULD have done. And it reminds me just how far behind he really is, on more than one level. He truly did not understand why his sister would drive hours to see friends. He would not inconvenience himself like that to see someone. Knowing he could not comprehend the WHY behind my daughter’s trip made me sad. But I still celebrated his interest and the fact that he had asked.

Because of Tate’s lack of social skills, sometimes he loudly questions things the rest of us would not because it would be considered rude. For example, when we have visitors in Bible class (Sunday school), he demands to know WHY they have come. No matter how many times I remind him we want visitors to feel welcome and invite them back, he treats them as if they are intruders who need interrogating. I know his questions have a lot to do with the change in his routine. A visitor causes him a little unease. But, I have found myself wanting to ask Tate, “Seriously? Now? Now is the time you decide to ask questions? You did not ask them at all the appropriate times, but you can come up with this many questions when the time is not right?”

Alas, it would do no good to ask him because Tate answers questions with less reliability than he asks them. His receptive language is so much better than his expressive language so he cannot explain the motives he has behind much of anything. He cannot usually tell me why he does anything he does, nor can he put into words how he feels about things. When Tate uses the word “because” in a sentence it seldom really fits. He might explain to me why he paces when he is anxious by telling me, “Because that is what teenaged boys do.” If I ask him why he does not like the braces on his teeth he will tell me something like, “It is illegal to put braces on thirteen year old boys.” I think I know the answers to those questions and I suspect he also knows the answers to those questions but he cannot communicate those things to me with words.  

And just as I was typing up the end of my thoughts on this subject, my husband came from Tate’s room chuckling. He had just asked Tate to speak to his grandparents on the phone. Tate, totally baffled as to the reason his dad was interrupting his movie viewing to speak on the phone, asked, “Why?” Reasons like, “Because they’d like to hear from you.” or  “Because they love you.” do not really solve the mystery for Tate. So the first thing Tate said in the short phone conversation he had with his grandparents was of course, “Why’d you call here?”

You might also enjoy this post: Lost in the Translation or this one: Speaking Tate's Language

we have to "give them a clue"

A couple of days ago, I got groceries and had just begun moving them from the cart to the van when a young man came up behind me, very quietly, and startled me. I think I actually jumped. He was waiting for my shopping cart. He works at the store and wanted to return my cart to the store for me. It would have been much more convenient for me to stick it in the cart-return next to me when I was finished, but he thought he was doing me a huge favor by standing there and waiting. He didn’t SAY he wanted to return the cart for me. He just said, “hello” and stood and waited. I could tell he had autism for several reasons. He had the awkward gait, didn’t know what to do with his hands or eyes while he stood waiting, and he had a monotone voice. It was very cold outside and I commented about the temperature. He tried to have a conversation with me about the weather but didn’t really know how. I helped him like I would my son Tate, bouncing “the ball” back to him and asking concrete questions that he would know how to answer. He reminded me so much of Tate and how he would have conversed with someone. 

Tate with Melissa, one of his first
(and best) teachers. 

Last week, our good friend Melissa visited our congregation and worshipped with us. Melissa was one of Tate’s first teachers in his early intervention program. Tate so badly wanted to have a conversation with her. He tried with, “Hey, a church building is where you go to church.” Melissa replied appropriately then Tate tried again: “A few days ago, Levi did something.” Melissa said, “What did Levi do?” Tate said, “He fixed the game cube.” Then he sauntered away without properly ending the conversation. When Tate has a conversation with someone it is usually two exchanges with him pacing back and forth in front of the person he is conversing with, or bouncing in place. The church building is a great place for Tate to practice his social skills. After many worship services I grab Tate before he bolts from the building to sit in the car, and I tell him he has to visit with three people before he can leave the building. He hates it when I do that. He usually picks the same three people, so sometimes I tell him it has to be three people he doesn’t usually talk to. The poor kid. The poor victim he chooses too! Haha They are all great sports and give it their best effort. It is just hard to get him to make any eye contact or make much sense. I’ve turned my church family into speech therapists for Tate. 

The day after I had the exchange with the young man while I unloaded my groceries, I was in another store and saw another young man with autism. This guy was probably about 15 and was there with a teacher or mentor who was supervising him. I imagine the outing was a teaching experience or perhaps a reward for something. The teacher was doing a fantastic job of modeling appropriate behavior for the student. I did not gawk but I was in the same vicinity for quite a while so I listened. The student bounced on his toes when he walked, much like Tate does, and he had trouble knowing what topics were appropriate for conversation. He talked at length about his high score on “Bop-it” and he wanted to talk at length about a brand of bread that he didn’t often see on store shelves. I imagine the teacher was having a hard time keeping a straight face part of the time because the bread topic was so far out there. Tate does the same sort of things. He has no idea what is appropriate to talk about and what is not. He has no idea what kinds of things are interesting to other people and what things are not. 

Tate has announced to his peers at school before that he was going to take a shower when he got home and he sometimes tells his teachers he had a shower that morning. We’ve tried to teach him that other people don’t really care to hear about his showers. He recently tried to start a conversation by telling one of the staff at school that her skin looked old. She is a young woman, quite pretty, and she handled it very well but we all had a good laugh over that one later. A day or two after that incident Tate had a substitute in his classroom that was elderly and her skin was wrinkled. I was so worried about what their day was like. If Tate said anything inappropriate, I didn’t get to hear about it. I wanted to be a fly on the wall that day. On Veteran’s Day, the school invited local veterans to come and have lunch with the students. Tate walked into the office with his para, looked around at several older folk gathered in the office, and started to speak. Tate’s wonderful, insightful, wise para, quickly said, “Tate, think about what you are going to say, before you say it.” Tate said, “Oh, never mind.” Tate just calls it like he sees it, as do most people with autism. 

Tate’s Resource Room teacher and his Speech Therapist are always working hard on teaching conversation starters and how to sustain a conversation. It just doesn’t come naturally to a kid with autism like it does the rest of us. They are teaching him how to tell a joke and the poor school secretary has heard a joke a day for most of the year now. She is so accommodating and laughs for him. She is worth her weight in gold and a huge part of his day.

I cannot imagine how confusing it must be to live in Tate's world. I remember once saying something about "laughing my head off" and Tate coming over to me to inspect my neck. He needed to make sure my head was still attached. Recently someone commented on being "ate up with chiggers" and Tate looked extremely confused.  

We are all working on figurative language. Each week, Tate’s Resource Room teacher sends me a list of three to five new idioms or cliché’s they will be working on that week so I can reinforce them at home. It is so cool when I hear him use one of those at home. He has learned things like “I’m on fire” and “under the weather” and “letting the cat out of the bag.” These are the things that we all understand when we hear them due to the context. They have to be taught, systematically, to a person with autism. Otherwise, they will not “have a clue” what you are talking about.

If you have not ever read, Seeing Ghosts, then click on the link and enjoy. 

Find me on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. Like what you read? Want to become a follower? Click on the Google Friend Following gadget on this blog. It's over on the right side and asks you to subscribe. Or you can add the URL (the web address in your search bar) to your Reading List. You can do that by clicking the plus sign in front of the URL. Thanks!