auditory processing

“I Need Eleven!”

Have you ever been baffled or surprised by something your child says? You may be certain that you heard the words correctly, but they don’t make sense. Having children with learning struggles, I often found that I needed to clarify both what I said to my children and what they were communicating to me. With a combination of ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) and auditory processing difficulties, communication was often a challenge. First, I had to obtain and keep my child’s attention long enough to convey a message. Then I had to determine if the message had been accurately received. If distractibility and impulsivity didn’t interfere, we could have a good conversation.

Children with learning disabilities often have unusual ways of expressing themselves. My son Josh had some word finding difficulties, so he would refer to the ankle as “that wrist part of your leg”. Likewise, the elbow might be “the knee of your arm.” Once when Josh wasn’t feeling well I asked him to describe his symptoms. He often used vague and nebulous words to tell me what he felt. I felt like a detective who needed to ask just the right questions to get my suspect to tell me what I needed to know.

One time, though, Josh told me his throat was sore and described what he was feeling in this way, “I feel as if my uvula has been acided off”. (I like the “uvula” part – true son of a speech therapist!) This description, although no doubt atypical for most children, painted a clear picture of the location and degree of Josh’s discomfort and indeed it turned out that Josh had strep throat. “Acided” may not be a real word, but it sure got the point across. Josh usually sailed through illnesses with little response to pain, so when he complained I knew it was serious.

When children are infants, we fret because they are not able to tell us what is wrong or where they hurt. We think how nice it will be when they are able to talk and tell us more exactly what they feel. If a child is a late talker, nonverbal, or has difficulty with expressive language we have to continue interpreting possible meanings to whatever communication attempts our child is able to produce.

My daughter Beckie was a big talker, and it was easy to tell that when she wanted “lunch fries” she meant “french fries” and that her “Valentime” was a “Valentine”. Since she had auditory processing issues, she said things the way she heard them and I continued in my role as communication detective to determine what Beckie was trying to convey. This was somewhat complicated by the fact that Beckie chattered a lot and was not always looking for a response but rather was processing her experiences by speaking out loud.

When she was a preschooler I noticed a frequently occurring phrase, “I need eleven!” Eleven what? I tried to figure out if she was trying to practice her counting skills, trying to collect something, or was just repeating something she had heard. But where had she heard it? Beckie was always a cuddle bunny, and was frequently snuggled up in my lap while we read books or talked. I tried to become aware of the context when she “needed eleven”, but couldn’t narrow it down. She said it contentedly when she was climbing onto my lap or getting a hug. She said it when she was physically hurt and when her feelings were hurt. When I asked her if she wanted to count to eleven together, she happily replied in the negative and wrapped her arms around me for a tight squeeze.

One day Beckie had been visiting one of her best friends for a play date, and I went to pick her up. She and her friend were sad to have to part ways, and the other child’s mother offered comfort by asking her son if he needed a lovin. I realized that “Do you need a lovin?” was a common phrase in that household, and in Beckie’s young mind had been translated into “Do you need eleven?” It had nothing to do with numbers, but had a strong connotation to comfort and the expression of affection. Since I had responded in ways she needed despite my lack of understanding about what she was saying, Beckie was inadvertently effective in her communication with me.

This is just one more reminder that love can make up for so many things. We all make mistakes with our children. We realize after the fact that we erred in our approach to teaching some students. We feel the pressures to convey the right amount of information at the right times while helping our struggling students develop skills to help them be successful. Our curriculum isn’t always a match for what we need. Our children may not be progressing at the rate we desire. We lose it. We yell, we apologize, and then catch ourselves being impatient again. We feel inadequate to meet all the needs we face on a daily basis. The stakes are so high.

You’ve heard it before but it bears repeating. What our children will remember the most is the relationship we have with them, not the specific things we deliberately taught or the strategies we used to help them learn. I blew it with my kids sometimes, and I knew it. I truly believe that my relationship with them is more important than any school subject and thus needed remediation before we could proceed with our official homeschooling. I find it very humbling, yet restorative, to apologize to my children when I have wronged them. They have always been very forgiving and amazingly resilient, a picture of God’s grace to me.

Showing grace and respect runs both ways in a relationship. It builds character and will outlast the school years as a child grows into an adult. Have you been focusing so much on getting the school work done that you’ve lost sight of the importance of relationship? Don’t let standards and benchmarks keep you from seeing the individual child who is right in front of you. Teaching a child is a great aspiration, and teaching in the context of a relationship is powerful. Children may not remember everything you’ve taught them, but they will remember you. Do you have the kind of relationship you want to become part of their lifelong memories? Let’s give our children lots of “elevens” and protect our relationships as they grow.

A Mom Like You

In the last six weeks, I’ve had the opportunity to speak at three different state homeschool conventions. At each conference I attend, I share information about learning disabilities, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Sensory Processing Disorders, and Auditory Processing Disorders. More important than the facts I pass along are the real-life stories from my own family experiences. I share what didn’t work as well as what worked at least some of the time. I share some of the failures and frustrations as well as our hard-won achievements.

When my first two children graduated from our homeschool in 2006, we declared our school colors to be black and blue. We were the homeschool of hard knocks! Not only did my children struggle with learning, but I struggled to try to find better ways to teach them. One of the biggest benefits for those attending workshops for children with various special needs is to look around and realize they are not alone. There are others striving to teach children with challenges, and others who understand the difficulties families face when their child has to work harder than most for every small gain they accomplish.

What has always amazed me is how God has prompted me to share some of the hardest, most unimpressive movements of my life and that is what people are blessed by in my workshops. Sure, I offer lots of tips and practical strategies, but what people connect with is hearing a speaker who admits to not having it all together but never gave up trying. My son is a young adult now, and he comes to conferences with me. People look at the two of us as survivors, who dealt with a lot of learning challenges and came out intact. Now Josh can share his perspective, and give parents insight into why their children may act the way they do.

I’ve never had all the answers to the challenges my children faced. What I did have was a commitment to help them grow into the unique individuals God intended them to become, equipping them as best I could. Sometimes I was out of ideas for how to teach a given topic, and my kids still weren’t “getting it”. All I had to offer was reassurance that I would keep trying to find ways to help, and would not give up on them. I would be the knot at the end of the rope that they could hang onto. The message was: Mom doesn’t have all the answers but Mom will always be there with you, coming alongside until we figure something out.

Don’t underestimate the power of just being there for your children. You don’t need to know all the answers, but your kids need to know you haven’t given up on them. It’s in the safety of knowing your love is unwavering that your children find the courage to try again, fail or succeed, and try some more. Our children are far more than what they can or cannot do, and they each have something to offer. This overall supportive attitude has a far greater impact than the best teaching strategies in the world.

Years ago I had a man in his 30’s come up to talk to me after I presented my workshop, “Helping the Distractible Child”. I don’t remember which conference it was, but I will forever remember what he said to me. He explained that as a child he always had difficulty paying attention, and was constantly getting in trouble as a result. He thought he was smart enough, but couldn’t sit still and had trouble completing assignments. He tried hard to comply with the demands put on him, but always felt like he was a disappointment to his parents no matter how hard he worked. “I wish I’d had a mom like you,” he said. “One who could see the strengths and work with me.”

One day all of our children will be adults. I challenge you to be that Mom, the one who never gives up on her kids no matter what. Be that Dad, who is consistently there for his children regardless of their struggles. Be that husband or wife who sticks around during the hard times. Be that person, so that one day your adult children will be able to say, “I’m so glad I had a Mom (and Dad) like you.”

Never underestimate him!

My apologies for not posting yet this month. I have been battling the flu since February 1st and the germs seemed to be winning for awhile. I’m making a strong comeback now, though!
Do you have a child who has difficulty following novel directions? My son, Josh, has ADHD and auditory processing difficulties. He has significant learning challenges and struggles to remember what he hears. He has a tendency to take things literally, with sometimes interesting results. Other times he draws the wrong conclusion and inadvertently changes the expected outcome. For example, once I found a recipe that sounded interesting. You put all the ingredients for an omelet into a sealed ziploc bag and cook it in boiling water. I thought this would be great, especially for those of us who have picky eaters, because everyone could choose which ingredients to include. My husband and I could include onions in ours, but our daughter has not yet learned to appreciate onions so she could omit them from her omelet. I compiled a few different omelet variations into separate ziploc bags and made sure they were sealed tightly. I put the water on to boil, and went into the next room to work with my daughter on a computer assignment. Josh went into the kitchen and shouted to me that the water was boiling. I asked him to carefully put the bags into the boiling water for me and to use the tongs that were sitting on the counter. Using one of his strategies, Josh requested clarification that I wanted all the bags put into the water. I confirmed that and a few minutes later went to check on my omelets. Surprise! What I found looked more like egg drop soup than omelets. At first I thought the bags must have split open while they were boiling. Then I saw the emptied bags off to the side and realized that Josh had meticulously opened each one and poured the contents into the boiling water, thus defeating the attempt to keep the ingredients separate for different omelets. Josh saw the flabbergasted expression on my face and asked if something was wrong. I explained that when I had asked him to “Put the bags into the water” I meant the entire bags. Josh said he thought about it, but that idea didn’t make sense to him and he had never seen me put any bags into boiling water so he decided he was supposed to just dump everything in. I thought I had been clear in my instructions, but I told Josh I would try to be more specific in the future. He grinned at me and said, “Never underestimate my incompetence, Mom!” I love that kid and his sense of humor.

Nature Books and The Leaf Blower Noise

At this time of year in Ohio we are seeing the leaves change color and fall to the ground. Our outdoor walks provide us with crunchy leaf textures to trample and there is a different “fall” smell in the air around us. A leisurely stroll down the block will show us fallen acorns, black walnuts, and other tree products eagerly gathered by squirrels as they dart to and fro on the ground and along tree branches. We have a squirrel living in the ornamental pear tree in our front yard, and I like to pick up loose acorns and other such treats when I take the dog for a walk and then place the nuts in the nooks and along branches for “our” squirrel to enjoy. When my children were younger we took lots of nature walks, and I gave each of them a bag for collecting pretty leaves from different trees. We used tree identification books to figure out the names of the trees we saw, and we preserved a leaf from each different tree in a nature notebook. After pressing the leaves in a book, we glued them to a page where we listed all the information about what kind of tree it came from, where we found it, and the date we collected it. It was fun to read the book throughout the year and review if the leaf was simple or compound, when we had collected it, and more. Over the years, our collection increased and it was a challenge to see if we could find a new specimen that wasn’t yet represented in our nature book.
Those times spent in nature are some of my favorite homeschooling memories for this time of year. My son, Josh, gave me another fall memory that is equally imprinted in my mind. With his AD/HD, auditory processing, and sensory issues, Josh often said or did unexpected things. His impulsivity gave him a tendency to do whatever came into his head, with the result that I often found myself trying to figure out what was going on with Josh based on what I was seeing and hearing. Our special needs children do what comes naturally to them, and often don’t realize that not everyone experiences things the way they do. In this instance, Josh starting making weird vocal sounds as he played. I went into my analysis mode as I observed him. Is he stimming? Has he developed a vocal tic? Is he trying to calm and organize? Alert himself? Keep others at bay? Provide sound effects for what he is playing with? Can he stop making the sound if I ask him to? The speech therapist in me tuned in to see if the sounds Josh was making could be considered vocal abuse and could physically harm his voice. As I observed Josh, he seemed content. He could stop on request, but returned to making the sounds a minute later. It was not vocally abusive and his pitch and volume were within acceptable ranges for his “normal” voice. In the back of my mind, I recognized something vaguely familiar about the sounds Josh was producing. Then it hit me and seemed so obvious that I almost laughed at not recognizing it sooner. Josh was reproducing the noise of a leaf blower! Once I realized it, I became aware that somewhere in the neighborhood a leaf blower was in use. It was faint and distant and I had not even registered it. But Josh had an uncanny ability to imitate noises and he heard things that most people don’t notice. He did a pretty accurate leaf blower noise. He also made airplane and vacuum cleaner noises, but I recognized them right off the bat. The leaf blower noise took me awhile, but whenever I hear one in use I still smile and think of little Josh’s noise imitation talent.

Why Read To Readers?

Do you still read to your children once they are proficient readers themselves?   It’s true that they may read just fine independently and that should be encouraged, but let’s consider some of the benefits of listening to someone else read. When you listen to a good narrator, you learn how to pronounce words you may have only read silently and mispronounced in your mind.   This is one of the ways I knew my children had been exposed to a new vocabulary word, when they said something that was phonetically correct but not the accurate way to produce the word. Listening to me as I read aloud also exposed them to variations in inflection, volume, and timing which are important components for developing language skills. When I read to my children, even after they were good readers, I could explain vocabulary and themes in the context of what we were reading together.   I could pause for discussion, something that typically does not happen during independent reading.   Hearing my children’s perspectives helped me to see how they express and process information.   It gave me insight into some of their personality traits as they learned to think critically about our reading selections.   Sharing a book together gave us common experiences which generalized to other activities.    We sometimes quote favorite lines to each other or make a reference to a literary character with shared understanding.   Another benefit of reading to younger children is that you can tackle more advance material and facilitate a love for good literature from a young age. Listening to someone else read is good practice for comprehension, as the children are taught to visualize what they are hearing.   Good readers can picture what they are reading about, which is why seeing a movie based on a book can be disappointing when it doesn’t match what we had imagined while reading.   When someone reads aloud it also provides the listeners with good practice for auditory skills.    Learning to tune in to the auditory channel is an important skill that impacts many other academic and life skills.   I recommend listening to stories performed by a good narrator even for young children who are not yet readers themselves.   Learning to listen and visualize will serve them well in their own independent reading endeavors.   Memory is enhanced when a visual image is recalled, so encourage your children to picture the story along with you as you read to them.   I read to my children even when they were in high school and quite capable of reading without me, because the shared experience meant not only reading together but time together and connections made despite busy schedules.    How many of us love to read but are hard pressed to find the time to actually sit down with a book that’s not related to work or school with our children?   Several years into homeschooling I discovered audio books for me.   Again, a good narrator makes all the difference when listening to a story, but having access to audio books allowed me to “read” that way while doing dishes, laundry, crocheting, and other tasks.   I still find that I have little time to just sit and read, but I no longer have a sense of reading deprivation as I go about my day with my little MP3 player loaded with audio books. Reading and being read to can be enjoyable for all ages and levels of readers.

The Answer is Yes!





Yesterday was a big day for my daughter. She graduated with honors with a B.S. in Education from The Ohio State University. She hand embroidered Jeremiah 29:11 on the top of her cap, and I am very proud of her accomplishments and her perspective about her future. Since I homeschooled Beth all the way through high school, I have been asked by many people through the years if homeschooled students can go to college. Fortunately, with the growth in homeschooling we are not considered to be such a fringe element of society anymore. Many homeschool students have found success in a variety of venues. Beth’s graduation from college answers that question with a definitive “yes”. College is not for everyone, homeschooled or otherwise schooled. But for those who wish to seek that additional education, homeschoolers can hold their own in any setting. What a joy to celebrate Beth’s success!

Of course, it seems nothing goes without a hitch when there’s a big event and multiple people involved. Beth’s graduation was held outside in the stadium at OSU, and the heat and humidity were both high. Both of Beth’s grandparents came to see Beth graduate, but grandma doesn’t do so well in the heat. Just after I got a text from Beth saying that she wasn’t feeling well and felt dehydrated, grandma passed out in the bleachers. We were able to eventually find the first aid station and she is fine, but we were shook up and spent time in the first aid station while waiting for Beth’s turn to get her diploma. With a graduating class of over 8,600 students, it took a long time. We did leave grandma with the medics, at her insistence, and popped back into the stadium to see Beth officially graduate. Because there were so many students, instead of calling their names they tolled a bell that sounded like a funeral dirge the entire time students were receiving the diplomas. My two sensory/auditory processing children were beginning to twitch from the relentless ringing.
Next we drove to a restaurant of Beth’s choice, The Cheesecake Factory, but they didn’t take reservations and there was a 2 1/2 hour wait. We hunted around for other restaurants in the area, but all had long waits so we headed back home. I had potato salad, a fruit and yogurt parfait, and graduation cap cookies on hand, but that hardly made a meal for eight. So we got carryout to go along with it.

My son, Josh, is an author and he broke out of his usual sci-fi writing mode to pen this “Ode to Beth’s Graduation”:
Ahem.

Rush so we will be on time.
Walk a mile and then we climb.

Hungry since we walked so far.
Left the food back in the car?

Seated up so very high.
Great view of that cloudy sky.

Now the band begins to play.
Half an hour til the parade.

8,600 tassels tall.
Did you have to name them all?

Graduates who have done your best!
Survive this day and pass the test!

Moving speeches, people sing.
Can anybody hear a thing?

Think it’s time to go inside
Before this turns to suicide.

People get their PHD’s.
Hangin’ out with EMT’s.

Additional speeches get carried away.
What? You mean we’re just halfway?

More interesting show to watch:
Grandma versus the Red Cross!

Sunburn in the first degree.
People leaving. Wait for me!

Diploma time’s a living hell.
Someone kill that funeral bell!

Over? Really? Now we’re free!
To the Cheesecake Factory!

Two and a half hour’s wait?
Fifty bucks for a piece of cake?

Everything else is crazy as well.
Ten miles around the Hilton Hotel.

Home at last. What a day.
Now we get to eat parfait.

All is over, and I’m glad.
…just what year is Beckie’s grad?

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Adult AD/HD Regulating Alertness

One of the things that always puzzled me when my son Josh was younger was how he tended to be extreme in his degrees of alertness. He was very hyperactive much of the time, but when I managed to get him to sit down at the table or on the couch to do school work he became downright lethargic. He’d go from spinning around like the Looney Tune Tasmanian Devil one minute to propping his head on his hand and looking groggy the next. It’s as if he couldn’t regulate himself to anything in between the two extremes. Now Josh is a young adult, and his AD/HD sister is in her late teens and I see the same issue of regulating attention manifesting in a slightly different way. My AD/HD husband Scott, my son, and my daughter all tend to fall asleep if they are sitting still listening to a lecture. Keep in mind they are not sleep deprived, so I don’t think lack of sleep is what’s causing it. Every single week in church, they are fine during the music portion of the service. They are fully awake during the meet-and-greet time. But once the sermon begins and they are sitting still and quiet, they close their eyes and fade away. At first I thought it only happened at church, but that’s not the case. It happens any time they are required to sit quietly in one spot and just listen. I recently attended a meeting with Scott and Josh to hear a speaker discussing issues that affect adults with AD/HD. In a room with about 20 people, I looked around and saw that only Josh and Scott were in the “I’m not sleeping but my eyes are closed and I LOOK like I’m sleeping” state. So I wonder if this is something many adults with AD/HD struggle with, or if my family’s manifestation is somehow unique. When Josh has a fidget ball with him, he is better able to regulate himself and stay awake and alert. When Scott takes notes, it helps him focus. When Beckie doodles, she attends better to what is being said. Yet if none of these strategies are implemented in time, they drift away and miss many points from the presentation being offered to them. They need to plan to use the strategies prior to finding themselves in an attention-challenging situation, but planning does not come naturally for them. By the time the need for a strategy becomes clear they may already be drifting away.

To Tell, or Not to Tell?

i26I’ve met many parents who are pretty sure their child has AD/HD or some other learning challenge but they are hesitant to make it official by having their child evaluated and diagnosed. The fear that a label may limit their child, be inaccurate, or be used in discriminatory ways is valid. When my son, Josh, was approaching school age I thought about the advantages of private schools with smaller class sizes. Several people suggested that I go ahead and enroll him without telling the school personnel about his AD/HD diagnosis so they couldn’t turn him down. That was before we knew he also had an auditory processing disorder. I was assured that once he was enrolled in the school, they couldn’t kick him out just because he had a diagnosis and they would be forced to work with him. Wow! For one thing, Josh was pretty easy to pick out of a group as being different than his peers. I’d give it 5 minutes tops before things became unavoidably noticeable. So basically I would have had to keep him out of sight until school had officially started. Then there was the whole idea of the people he would be spending hours with each day being tricked into having a student that they weren’t prepared for and apparently didn’t feel equipped to deal with in their classroom. That made me feel sorry for Josh and for the teachers, since having someone who was “forced” to work with my child because I had hidden some vital information from them just didn’t sit well with me. I loved that boy, and the thought of sending him somewhere that he might not be wanted didn’t make sense to me. I had the same dilemma when it came time for Sunday School at church. I didn’t want to bias the teachers against Josh by telling them all his struggles, so I coached him on the way there and dropped him off like all the other parents with their children. The Sunday School teachers, bless them all, are volunteers in the church and most don’t have training as educators – and for most kids that’s just fine. But to do the “drop and run” with a special needs or challenging child is not a good idea, as I came to realize. Every week, the other parents would pick up their children and happily leave. When I came to pick up Josh, I inevitably got pulled to the side and told, “I need to talk to you about Josh.” Then I heard, week after week, a full litany of complaints from frustrated and bewildered teachers who were describing things that were not unusual for Josh but were not typical for most children. For example, Josh was not adept at sitting still for long. He was not deliberately disruptive and was never disrespectful, but his need to stand at the table while coloring his page instead of sitting in a chair like everyone else was considered problematic. His sensory issues led him to sit at the back of the group on his carpet square, and everyone else was huddled together and bumping into each other which Josh was carefully trying to avoid. But that meant he wasn’t “with” the group because he had made a row of one – just himself! And the list would go on and on until I was finally allowed to leave with my miserable son who knew that somehow just by being who he was he had screwed up again and people were unhappy with him. Those experiences led me to advocate more and be preemptive with anyone I left Josh with for any length of time. When there was a sub or a new Sunday School teacher, I made a point of telling them a bit about Josh and strategies that would help them, and I was careful not to dwell on the negatives. I shared Josh’s strengths, too, for I found that if I became negative about my son others felt free to share every little thing they saw as being wrong or weird about him. I was well aware of Josh’s struggles and it served no purpose other than to discourage me when others felt the need to complain about him. All this, and he wasn’t even doing anything “bad” on purpose! When someone was going on and on about all the things Josh did or did not do, I learned to quietly point out something that he had done right, or I’d share something that Josh had enjoyed learning in their class previously. This seemed to derail some of the negativity some of the time. Just as with our kids, nothing works all of the time but something will work some of the time. We need strategies for working with those who are in a position to care for our children, and hope that something will work some of the time. Whether you are a natural advocate or a reluctant one, if you have a child with a learning difference or special challenges, you must be an advocate unless and until your child one day develops the skills to advocate for himself. In my experience, being deliberate in my advocacy was hard but preferable to what happened when I just waited and hoped things would work out for the best.

Auditory Processing Train of Thought


My son, Josh, needed increased response time when he was younger. When asked a question, he took longer than most to formulate his responses, so often he was skipped over in a group setting. The teacher or coach would ask him something, get no response for several seconds, and move on to someone else. Part of the problem was that Josh gave no indication that he’d heard the question. He did not change his facial expression or otherwise let the speaker know that he was actually thinking about what had been said. It was frustrating to Josh to know the answer but have such a limited window of opportunity to express it that he often was unable to reply in the time allotted. I worked with Josh to develop a few strategies to let the speaker know that he had heard and was processing what was said to formulate a response. The first strategy was to hold up one finger in the “wait a minute” pose, to indicate that he needed a little more time. This was probably the easiest to implement, since it did not require an oral response when Josh was already struggling to formulate a verbal answer. The next strategy was to actually say something like, “Give me a minute, please” or “Could you repeat that?” (This was much preferable to saying, “Huh?” which happened so frequently when he was younger that I screened his hearing multiple times!) This strategy let the speaker know that Josh was intending to answer, and the repetition often helped him and gave him a little more time to process. Josh also learned the strategy of asking for clarification, by simply asking “Are you saying ____?” or “Is this what you mean?”. It’s also important to teach our auditory processing strugglers to use verbal strategies when they are on the phone, because obviously visual cues like the upheld “hold on” finger won’t work. Once when I was on the phone with Josh I asked him a question and he was quiet for so long I wasn’t sure he was even still on the phone. I asked if he was still there and he told me, “Yes, Mom. But my train of thought is still boarding.” I’ve also noticed that Josh’s train of thought will sometimes derail entirely if he is interrupted during the boarding process. When that happens, often by well-meaning people trying to help him out or speed things along, Josh’s train has to go back to the beginning and start all over again. So instead of moving things along more quickly, it actually backfires and takes even longer. This is where it’s helpful to teach our kids the gestural cues as well as verbal scripts so they will be less likely to be interrupted and the train of thought can actually leave the station.

Answering Questions

I’ve noticed something interesting about the way my AD/HD guys (husband and son) answer questions. Their approach to conversation is sometimes a challenge for me, the mere “neurotypical” that I am. When I was first getting to know Scott, I would ask him questions to see how he thought and to learn more about him. I am pretty logical and sequential and so is my communication style. We didn’t know back then that Scott had AD/HD because he wasn’t diagnosed until after our son was and by then we were in our early 30’s. So it puzzled me when I would ask Scott a question and he would answer by asking me a question. This was not a matter of repeating back what I’d asked for clarification purposes, but would be a different question that could change the course of the conversation. I might ask something like, “What was your favorite vacation while you were growing up?” Scott’s response might be to ask, “Do you like to travel?” It wasn’t a matter of Scott’s evading the question, and there was still a connection with what I’d asked. It’s just that his response didn’t answer the question. Scott’s amazing brain just works in a way that allows him to connect with one topic and from that topic quickly make connections with many related thoughts that shoot off like the spokes from the hub of a bicycle wheel – only probably not as organized and predictable as the spokes. If I really needed a definitive answer, I learned to come out and say, “You can’t answer a question with a question.” This forced Scott to slow down and give me something definitive to work with so we could reach some sort of conclusion. Often he would ask me out and have no plan in mind for what we would do. I didn’t know him well enough yet to understand that he was tapped out in the planning category just by setting up an exact time to be with me. So he would pick me up, and I’d ask what he wanted to do. Then he would ask me what I wanted to do, etc. We have since learned how to communicate when I need specific information even though it still does not come naturally to Scott. I’ve noticed with my son, Josh, that he often doesn’t answer a straightforward yes/no question with “yes” or “no”. Today his dad asked him if he’d had enough pizza. Josh responded that he’d had five pieces. So, does that mean “YES, I’ve had enough,” or “NO, I’m still hungry”? I’ve learned to communicate with Josh to narrow things down for him in very specific ways and eventually I can usually pull the answer out. Sometimes with Josh it’s a matter of distractibility or making excuses rather than just saying “yes” or “no”. For example, when asked if he liked a certain movie he might give you enough information that the answer is implied even though he doesn’t come right out with it. Other times, I’m still unclear even after his response so I just have to try again and ask, “So does that mean you DID or DID NOT like it?” To me this way of communication seems like it would be much more work for Josh and Scott than just responding with a simple reply or an affirmative or negative response, but to them it is natural to answer questions in a more circuitous way. What comes naturally to us does not feel like hard work, and as long as it’s working for us that’s what we’ll tend to do.