Executive Function and Al Capone

I’ve been thinking a lot about this thing called executive function lately and I have been watching Tate and Sydney try to problem solve. I have to jump in often to help them solve very simple problems they should be able to handle. By “should,” I mean they WOULD be able to handle these things if they did not have a disability. Executive functioning allows a person to sequence events, problem solve, multitask, get organized and make plans. One of my autism heroes, Temple Grandin, speaks about executive function on occasion. She has said, "I cannot hold one piece of information in my mind while I manipulate the next step in the sequence." Can you imagine? Can you imagine always being lost in the steps it takes to complete a project or deal with the unexpected things that come up in any given day? Not being able to organize your thoughts and make a plan, then follow through and execute the plan?

This afternoon I took Tate to get a haircut. Tate’s been going to the same barbershop for many years. If I can get a parking spot right in front of the door and if there is no wait for the barber chair then I just wave at the barber and Tate goes in alone lately. Today I had to park several parking slots away from the shop so I walked Tate in and sat down with him. Why? Because I couldn’t tell if there was a line from where I was parked. I knew if Tate went in and there was a line for the chair he would not have known what to do. He would not have been able to figure out when it was his turn because a line for the next chair in a barbershop is not really a line at all. Although our kind barber would have given Tate instructions, there would have been potential for Tate to misunderstand or become confused and he would have been nervous. Remember that tyrant we fight everyday called anxiety. He’s brutal. And so I walked Tate in mostly because he does not have the executive function it would take to figure out what to do in a crowded barbershop without help. But stay tuned for the rest of the story.

This morning, before we left for the barbershop, I decided to give the kids’ bathroom a make over. I took down the old, mildewed shower curtain and threw it out. Then before the haircut, Tate and I went into a department store and he helped me pick out a new shower curtain and rug for the bathroom. We went with a fish theme, by the way. When we got home from town, I got busy with some chores. And then I realized I could hear the shower running. Tate was taking a shower without the curtain up. He always goes right to the shower after a haircut but I had not thought about it. (Where were my executive functioning skills?) Of course, the bathroom floor was standing in water by this time. I do not often lose my patience with Tate but I scolded him in my frustration. I know better than to do this but I did it anyway. I talked to Tate about what a mess he’d made. I told him he could have used other options and discussed those with him. He could have taken a shower in a different bathroom or waited. He could have asked me to put up the shower curtain right away too. None of those things had occurred to him. There was no executive function. And then when he saw the mess himself, it never occurred to him to clean it up. It probably never occurred to him that anyone would need to clean it up. There was no executive function. And because of my lecture to Tate about the mess he had made, he is perseverating about it. Not so much because he made a mess but because I was aggravated he made a mess. I’ve assured him several times that all is well and the mess is cleaned up and the new shower curtain has been hung. All is right again. But, he cannot get past the fact that I was annoyed with him and told him about it. Texts have been flying as he needs to let his siblings know of the injustice he received. 

This evening we were sitting at his school in an assembly to kick off the beginning of the school year. Tate leaned over to tell me that sometimes teenagers make messes. I said, “Tate, can we drop it now? It’s ancient history.” He said, “Messes are not history. I know a lot about history. Al Capone robbed a lot of banks and then he died in jail. That is history.” And there we have it. Tate made a mess that was easily wiped up. It was only water. I made a mess that will take days to clean up because I used words. Tate is not the only one who sometimes lacks executive function. I could use a little more of that myself. I wonder if Al Capone lacked executive function? 

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You May Be An Autism Parent If...

Tate, aged 13

My son Tate has autism. He is thirteen years old. I will never appreciate the challenges that autism causes my son and our family but I do appreciate the people I have come to love that are part of the autism community. As Tate grows older and I meet more and more people affected by autism I find so much we often have in common. I came up with this list. Not all of it will apply to you but a lot of it might.

You may be an autism parent if…

1. you toss around words like perseverate, echolalia, and reciprocity in casual conversation.

2. you do not even have to stop and decipher acronyms like IEP, IDEA, ESY and BCBA anymore because they are part of your everyday vocabulary.

3. you know what a visual schedule is and have relied on one to help your  child to get through the day.

4. you have alarms on the doors of your home and your heart breaks just a little more every time you read about another child from the autism community who has gone missing.

5. your inbox is flooded with messages anytime there is a trending new “cure” for autism or a new theory about its cause. Relatives, friends, and even acquaintances are willing to help in this way. Got broccoli?

6. you have no need to keep track of a grocery list because your child only eats five things. (Broccoli is not one of them.) 

7. you know the names of almost every character from almost every animated movie ever made and you can quote much of the dialogue.  

8. you have learned the name of every Thomas the tank engine character, read train books until you are hoarse, and put together countless train track pieces with your child.

9. there is someone in your life who could use a breath mint, ought to get a haircut, or needs to lose a few pounds, your kid will break the news to them. No problem. It is just a service he offers. 

10. you hear clichés every day. “Everything happens for a reason” and “God only gives special children to special people” are phrases you have heard from complete strangers.   

11. you have tee shirts and jewelry with puzzle pieces on them and your car sports an autism awareness bumper sticker.

12. you never leave home without a tablet and a charger. And if the battery on your kid’s tablet goes dead you and your kid both may cry.

13. you know where every restroom and every exit is for all the places you frequent with your child.

14. the people at the few restaurants your child will eat at, know you and your child very well. They even know your kid’s order before you give it.

15. you use a transition warning before most changes, large or small.

16. you have ever laid awake at night either wondering how you were going to afford all the things your child needed or worrying about his future.

17. you silently scream inside when your child is taught about something like germs at school knowing it will probably begin another obsession.

18. you have ever had someone ask, “Your child has autism? So, what is his ‘special gift?’”

19. you wish there was some way you could convey your thanks to all your child’s therapists and teachers and paraprofessionals to show them just how much they mean to you. But you know there is no gift big enough and no words strong enough to tell them how thankful you are for all the things they do for your child.

20. you hate it when those in the autism community debate vaccinations, the use of the word “autistic,” or whether or not a “cure” for autism would be a good thing or a bad thing. And you wonder why we cannot all just respect each other’s opinions and get along.

Breaking Bad News, Tate Style

My thirteen-year-old son Tate has autism. Autism frustrates me. However, Tate does not. I adore my son and I am very patient with him. But, sometimes I want to shake my fist at autism. Autism keeps Tate from understanding so much about the world we live in. Autism keeps Tate from being able to verbally communicate well and converse. Lately we have found that Tate expresses himself better in text messages than he does verbally. I believe that it is partly because he can take his time. For Tate to converse with someone in person the other person’s very presence seems to intimidate him slightly. He is easily distracted and loses his train of thought no matter how patiently we wait on him to process our language and respond. Texting has helped Tate to be able to get his thoughts and feelings across to us. Tate often texts his adult siblings. They enjoy his communications very much.

Daisy and a box turtle she found

Recently, my dad, Tate’s grandpa, lost his beloved German Shepherd in a tragic accident. My dad lives right next door to us. His dog Daisy spent most of her time lying on a rug in front of my dad’s recliner. But occasionally Daisy liked to play outside in his yard and in ours. We live out in the country where there is little traffic and our houses are well off the road so we were surprised when Daisy ran right out into the path of an oncoming car and was killed.

Tate, because of sensory issues, has never liked animals. He especially avoids dogs. They scare him a little I think. Tate knew Daisy’s name but he did not call her by her name. He called her, “The neighbor’s dog.” I asked Tate on several occasions why he did not refer to Daisy by her name or even call her “Grandpa’s dog?” Each time he told me the same thing, “She IS the neighbor’s dog.” Technically he was correct. He had me there. He does not refer to my parents as “the neighbors” but calls them “Grandpa” and “Grandma.” However, the dog was “the neighbor’s dog.” I think it may have been one more way of keeping the dog at arm’s length for him.

Tate does not often show empathy or sympathy for others but I have seen it on occasion. Tate was worried about his grandpa being sad. He asked me about it more than once.

Left to Right: Tate, Titus, Emily, Regan,
Levi, Sydney, Bailey and Isaac. Dec. 2014

Tate broke the news of Daisy’s demise to his brothers and sisters in a text message. I believe this is the first group message he has ever sent. Always before he has messaged them individually even if he said the same thing to each of them. Following are the screen shots of those texts back and forth. My older kids are so good with Tate. They know him well and can often understand what he is trying to say even when he does not say things clearly. Notice how he tries to correct the spelling of “aye” and how he picks up on the way they voted with “aye” and then wants to take a vote with “not” too. 

Note: We live in Kansas. Three of the kids were together in Arkansas when Tate was texting them. Levi, aged 17, was at Bible camp as a camper. Bailey, age 20, and Isaac, age 22, work at the same camp in Arkansas. Tate wanted to make sure they ALL got the message. Titus is married to Emily and they live in Connecticut. Regan was in Kansas but not with us at the time. She was in blue in the text as she was the one who forwarded the text to me. I sure love my kids. They all six are so good to answer Tate's texts and communicate with him anytime he needs them. I am so proud of them all. 

You might also like to read Tate's Texts