As a therapist, I often meet families who are deep in the trenches of everyday challenges — navigating neurodiversity, co-parenting after separation, and trying to find just one peaceful moment at home. A few months ago, I began working with a father of two incredible boys: Hugo, 10, and Barney, 8 — both autistic, both bright, both bursting with energy — and both seemingly unable to spend more than 15 minutes together in the same room without conflict erupting.

Their dad had tried it all — screen-time bribes, separation strategies, even chore charts. Nothing stuck. Their shared weekends often felt like emotional landmines, leaving him depleted and the boys disconnected.

That’s when I introduced them to something I call the ‘Add Structure’ Model — not a magic fix, but a framework that creates safety and predictability while allowing space for play and self-expression. We designed a custom game, built around the boys’ needs and sensory styles. And what happened next truly shifted the dynamic in their home.

The Game

Here’s how it worked:

• Choice & Control: First, either Hugo or Barney (we alternated) got to choose the type of activity — physical, sensory, or tabletop. This made them feel invested from the start. Hugo usually picked something rough-and-tumble; Barney preferred stacking, building, or crawling through tunnels.

• Environment: They cleared space in the living room, scattered crash mats and cushions, and set up their "arena." It was their designated space — not the entire house — which contained the energy and lowered the chance of accidents.
• Supervisor Role: The dad took on a new role: not referee, not coach — just Supervisor. His job? Sit nearby, sipping tea or reading the newspaper, occasionally calling out, “Foul!” “Time-out!” or “Half-time!” That was it. He was present but not policing.
• Clear Rules of Allowance: We created a rule sheet with visuals. For example:
  • ✅ You can push, but only onto the crash mat.
  • ❌ You can’t pull shirts, kick, or spit.
  • ✅ You can shout “RARR!” like a dinosaur.
  • ❌ You can’t throw toys or hit on the hard floor.
• Consequences That Felt Like Fun:
  • Foul? No punishment. Just a playful reset: the “offender” had to go down the slide once or do 10 jumps on the trampoline.
  • Then — game resumes. No lectures. No shame.

The Results

What happened over the following weeks was quietly extraordinary.

They played. They laughed. They bickered — but they used the reset rules themselves. They began anticipating each other’s moves, offering each other turns, even setting their own mini-challenges. Hugo, once rigid with his younger brother’s “interruptions,” began inviting Barney to play. Barney, who used to melt down at the slightest bump, started saying “Hey! That’s a foul! Go jump!” — then cracking up.

Their dad described weekends as “90% less tense” and said for the first time in years, he actually looked forward to having them together.

Why It Worked

Autistic children often thrive when there’s clarity, consistency, and autonomy within a structured environment. The ‘Add Structure’ model created just that. It met their sensory needs, allowed for emotional expression, and provided safety — not just physical safety, but emotional safety, too. And critically — it allowed their dad to step out of constant conflict mediation and into a supportive, supervisory role.

It didn’t make their challenges disappear. But it gave them a shared language for play, for boundaries, for repair.

And in a family where coexistence once felt impossible, that’s no small win.

If you’re parenting neurodivergent siblings and feel like you’re constantly firefighting, try adding structure without removing freedom. Create the frame, then let the kids color it in. You might be surprised what they come up with.