Recently, I made mac & cheese for lunch—a beloved, almost always safe food.
I was surprised when my son looked at the food I was offering and said, “I do like mac & cheese, but it’s just too hard.” I gently checked in, asking if it felt too hard or just a little hard. His answer was clear: too hard. I wondered aloud what might feel hardest—and what might feel easier to eat.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he replied, “I just don’t know.”
“How about a snack plate?” I suggested.
His face brightened. “Can I have it downstairs while I watch a show?”
This is the moment where many parents might hesitate.
- “How will he learn if you…?”
- “If you give a mouse a cookie…”
- “You’re enabling picky eating.”
- “You can’t let them have control.”
- “He’s walking all over you.”
I understand these concerns, and I am always happy to listen and engage with my loved ones. But I also know that demand avoidance is real, especially for PDA individuals. What I observed and experienced in that moment was a clear example of how overwhelming even a safe food can become when framed as a demand—even inadvertently.
A favorite food had suddenly become too much. He needed to avoid it, though he couldn’t articulate why. His tears signaled the edge of distress and escalating dysregulation. A snack plate, on the other hand, was a less direct demand—one he could manage. Offering the flexibility of a comfy couch and a favorite show made it even easier. He didn’t need to explain why he was struggling, and I didn’t press him to.
This is just one example of what dropping demands can look like—of what it means to prioritize connection and compassion over compliance, especially as our children are growing and learning, as they’re developing and identifying their own methods of self-regulation.
Demand avoidance is a lived experience for many neurodivergent individuals. It manifests differently for each person—whether PDA, ADHD, non-PDA autism, or other neurotypes. I know this firsthand. As a PDA adult, I have my own struggles with demand avoidance and continue to work on developing and adjusting my own coping skills.
In those moments as we’re trying to work through how to cope, the least helpful thing anyone can do is remind me or my child how “atypical” our reactions are. It’s not going to help me cope better to be asked, “Why are you like this?” or to be told, “It’s not that big of a deal.” I’ve wrestled with shame, frustration, and confusion. I’ve begged God to fix me. I’ve lashed out, convinced I was being judged.
But I’ve also had the privilege of therapy, supportive loved ones, and a husband who truly sees me. And that relational safety? That is truly what has made the difference. No amount of trying new things, of sucking it up, of masking my distress would help me feel regulated or expand my capacity.
For parents of PDA kids—and for PDA adults navigating a world that often doesn’t understand—it’s not about forcing compliance. It’s about meeting our kids (and ourselves) with the understanding and flexibility we need to thrive.
Bio: Sunita Theiss is an autistic + ADHD mom of neurodivergent kids. Multiple members of her family identify with PDA, and she completed the PDA North America Level 1 certificate in 2023. A child of Indian immigrants, Sunita was born and raised in Georgia. She is a poet and writer, and has had an extensive career in marketing and communications. She is currently in a season of downshift in her career to be more hands-on with her family and homeschool her children. Connect with her on Instagram, Substack, or in the PDA Georgia Facebook group.
