Can’t vs Won’t…
It was a typical Saturday morning, wrestling kids over scattered toys in the playroom... too lazy to get out of pajamas, but full of pent up energy as the cold winter weather continues.
The house was a mess, and the playroom looked like it threw up all over itself. Luca was in search of something, but couldn’t communicate exactly what. I followed him out into the kitchen, as I watched his movements become frantic. Asking him if I could help, he replied with “bink” and I said “Ok,” but took a minute to grab a few toys on the floor in the other direction, so I could put them back in the playroom when returned to it, trying to be efficient with my efforts (because when are we not picking up toys!!!). It took a minute too long because when Luca saw that I said I would help, but my actions and body language told him I was saying no, his frustration overwhelmed him for being ignored. As it quickly bubbled over, he turned to notice his little sister walking toward him, pacifier in mouth (unconsciously rubbing it in his face), which set him over the edge. Before we knew it, he went to pull her hair to tell us how mad he was. He pulled so hard that when we separated him seconds later, strands were in between his finger tips.
After calming them both down, getting Luca his bink and putting him in a safe space while being held, comforting Alex separately, apologizing that we couldn’t protect her from just walking through the kitchen, Steph and I looked at each other scared. Luca’s aggression has peaked lately, and his go-to when frustrated is to pull hair. Poor Jack gets the brunt of it. And I can’t imagine how hard it is to be in Luca’s shoes where he has not found the words or understanding on how to safely express his feelings or ask for help to meet his needs, but watches both his brother (who used to share his struggles) and his little sister do so with ease. But as his parents, we are at a loss too. We don’t know how to give him what he needs as we aren’t trained in ABA or therapies to teach a child with learning disabilities to communicate. And what’s harder, is that Luca has the strength of a 5 year old (kid has a six-pack and is crazy strong) but the communication skills of a 2 year-old. Have you ever felt like you were trapped in the wrong body? Poor kid feels it to the extreme every day.
To try to explain it another way… when we’ve worked with Alex over the last three months, since she begun discovering her sea legs, and becoming incredibly mobile with her sassy waddle, we’ve constantly been on the look out to ensure she avoids all corners to tables not realizing where her head now reaches. As she’s learning to navigate this world, we are constantly working to make her aware of the dangers around every corner, while letting her ride without the training wheels.
When I think of how this relates to Luca… his learning delays almost required him to live life with training wheels permanently attached for the time being, despite that he feels ready to fly without fear of eating pavement - not because he won’t… but because he can’t. He will be five years-old this summer, and his sister who hasn’t even reached her two-year-old birthday, knows how to express her emotions through words with more direct intention than he does. When Alex is sad, she screams, cries and asks for help. When Luca is upset, he bottles it up, holding it in, until he can’t hold it in any longer and it explodes out of him. As he is so introverted, we can completely miss for how long he is frustrated for until it’s so evident that we are in “danger” mode. In the moment it will feel like he’s acting out for no reason, but afterwards, when we retrace our steps, we realize that had we been paying better attention, we could have seen it coming, and more successfully prevented any hurt caused from our lack of notice.
Let me remind you. Luca’s magic is the love that bursts out of that small sweet heart of his. He can be the sweetest, kindest, most caring child. Our son is not a mean or vicious boy, but as we are working to give him the skills it takes to deal with the massive emotion that drives such aggressive acts, we are struggling with remembering and recognizing this one key factor of can’t vs won’t. In the moments we can realize that it’s not a situation of won’t - that he won’t just simply be kind to his sister, or won’t be more patient and trust that I’ll be with him as soon as I can, it gives us the perspective to remember that at this moment in time, he simply can’t be kind when his emotions are erratically racing through his body causing his temperature to feverishly heighten, and can’t wait any longer because maybe this is the 10th time he’s had to compete with two other human’s demands from his mother and at this moment he is tired of waiting. In those moments when we are patient and find grace to breath through any frustration we are feeling with the spiral of effects from this poor child’s moment of defeat, we are able to remember what we can’t vs won’t do as his parents. In those moments we are able to focus on the fact that as mature adults with learned perspective, if we don’t address him to let him know we hear him, it’s not that we can’t be the parents he needs, it’s in that moment, we won’t be the parents he needs, and so we choose to be better. We choose to keep paying attention, keep trying harder, and keep learning what he needs, even if those needs change daily.
We’ve been told by others to discipline the behavior, to put him in a time out, or simply “require more from him.” But I share this because it’s a perspective that may change the way you look any human behavior - understanding if someone can’t vs. won’t in the moment, can help you better determine how you could/should/do react in return. If Luca were to go in a time out, he would laugh- because he laughs when he’s sad or scared. It would not resonate with him, it would have the opposite effect. And heaven forbid he were to be “disciplined” - it would do nothing more than show him that violence is an acceptable response to unwanted behaviors. We can’t expect more from him at this moment in time. That little boy works as hard as he can day in and day out at school with his teachers and friends, and at home with his parents and siblings.
So, we choose to instead, meet him at his level. To remove him safely from the opportunity to hurt someone further. To make sure he knows we weren’t ignoring him and that he has our attention to help calm him down, for as long as he needs. To ensure his sibling(s) are safe from allowing the situation to escalate. Yes, there are times this feels impossible, this weekend being one of them, as Alex felt defenseless, and like a line we weren’t willing to let him cross yet. But in that moment, when we battled our own emotions, we relied on each other to hold ourselves accountable to remember can’t vs won’t.
Because we can be better parents. We can choose to take time to learn more about our son, and everything that he is, not just a diagnosis. We can pay extra attention to his body language, and ensure that when he asks for something, remember that he only asks if he really needs it, so to give it the importance it deserves.
Remember, behavior is communication. Just because someone isn’t using words to speak, doesn’t mean that you can’t hear them, it means you won’t hear them, and are choosing not to. Choose to listen.