When Lucas was little, there was a large focus on keeping him content during boring situations. It goes hand in hand with having a young child with autism.

He’s been non-verbal his whole life and, even in the younger years, we were learning ways to communicate with him. Explaining that he needed to be patient or that we just needed a quick car ride wasn’t in the cards. Even waiting at a restaurant felt like a mystery for my little guy.

To deal with that, we found ways to keep him occupied. There were board books and fidget things left wasted in the backseat. For my guy, it was all about electronics. Whether Leap Frog remote controls or a tablet, Lucas needed music or screens – preferably both.

After all, without them, he was miserable. A ride to the supermarket turned into an agonizing tug of war. His body language screamed, “Where are you taking me?!” When we arrived, it screamed, “Where are we?!”

There were tantrums and whines in the car. There were on-the-asphalt meltdowns in the parking lots. There were impromptu breakdancing exhibitions in the entryway at the grocery store. He was not happy.

When an iPad would materialize, though, everything was wonderful. Like an angel sent from Steve Jobs, this device would keep my son smiling, swiping, and off the ground.

Through the years, that device went from a temporary fix to a permanent addiction. Soon, the tantrums weren’t about confusion. In many cases, he knew where he was going. His upset reactions were about not getting his device quickly enough.

Making matters worse, it had a different effect over time too. Today, his time with the tablet is spent clapping and screaming with excitement. I can’t even describe it. Nine times out of ten, he’s overjoyed. One time out of ten, he’s overwhelmed. Hysterics go from happy to misery in a finger snap.

That’s why he had his iPad in hand while we carpooled his sister and her friends to their driver’s ed class last month. I figured he would be easier to manage if he had YouTube Kids there to entertain him.

It was early and the girls were doing their typical quiet whispers in the backseat. It would have been almost silent…except for my shrieking little pal next to me. The only break in the shouting was when he would randomly grab my arm while driving to help him search for Elmo or something. Sorry, kid, I need this hand.

Still, I thought nothing of it. This had been the way it’s been forever. Sure, the device gets him going, but he loves it and he needs it…right? Right?

I wasn’t sure anymore and my view took a turn a few days later when I had him leave it in the car to go into a store. His ensuing tantrum was a rarity, but pretty over-the-top. It was then that I decided we needed to scale back on the iPad.

I had a good feeling about his potential for going device-free more given that we’ve done it on a smaller scale in the past. The first time I took it away before we went into a restaurant, he was not a happy camper. Now, he just knows that’s what we do.

Was it easy? No. Was it as hard as I expected? Not nearly.

The car, though, was different. After all, this had been his go-to for over a decade. My boy is a ride-and-swipe guy. I was apprehensive but hopeful. The first major test came on my next carpool turn.

Luckily, I was the pickup parent for this one, so Lucas had the whole car ride to get used to the idea of being device-less. I made sure to load him up with Leap Frog toys to keep him happy.

He touched none of them. In fact, he never objected once. Rather, he looked out the window and seemed to just, well, decompress.

That was how it was the whole time. Even when the Get-Along-Gang loaded into the Jeep, he was perfect. The girls were almost completely silent the whole ride and stunningly, so was Lucas. We all calmly drove back home and had some of that elusive peace and quiet we all hope for.

When we returned, I asked my daughter why no one talked for the whole ride home. Of course, I asked in that dad way I’m known for.

Why are you little weirdos so quiet back there?

She told me that everyone was tired because it was an early start to the day, which it was. So I get it. I also get that if Lucas was rip-roaring over Elmo videos, the ride would have been maddening.

Yet, it wasn’t. We all got a chance to rest.

Oh and “we all” includes Lucas. It was an early start for him too.

That’s the thing that can’t go unnoticed. While it might seem, on the surface, that this is done to make life easier for me and his sister, we’re not the only one who benefits. Lucas benefits too.

The fact that he sat quietly and took in the scenery for nearly an hour is a testament to the fact that he wanted to relax too. He didn’t need to be stimulated to the point of screaming and hopping.

This journey has taught me something vital about parenting Lucas: sometimes the things we think are helping him aren’t what he actually needs. As much as the iPad was a lifesaver in his younger years, it also became a crutch – one that kept him from discovering a sense of calm that he didn’t even know he craved. It was a sense of calm I didn’t realize he even wanted.

By taking a step back and letting him have that quiet time, I realized that Lucas is capable of more than I’d given him credit for. It’s not always about keeping him entertained or content in the moment.

It’s about helping him find balance, even if he doesn’t know to ask for it. That’s what being his dad is all about—making the tough calls, trusting my instincts, and giving him the space to grow in ways I never imagined.

 

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