This Week In Autism - Bed Time Routine Regression

This Week In Autism i'll go over Henry's hilariously bizarre new bedtime routine that is apparently referred to as a rigidity spike.

There’s been a massive change to how Henry has been going to bed.

Previously, Mum would put Franklin (2 years old) to bed in his own room, while I would put Henry to bed in Mum’s bed, where she would join him a few hours later. I’d gotten to the point where I could take Henry to bed, lie down, and he’d lie next to me, slowly falling asleep with his head on the same pillow as mine.

It was amazing — especially compared to just a few months ago, when he’d make me sit in awkward, uncomfortable positions while he stretched out over me, falling asleep in such a way that 50% of the time he’d wake up screaming if I tried to sneakily push him off.

Anyway, the gastro situation last week changed something.

Henry was so shaken up by Mum vomiting and the sudden changes to the routine that one night, he wouldn’t go to the room to sleep. Instead, he watched Mum rock Franklin to sleep in the lounge room armchair.

After Mum put Franklin to bed, Henry demanded that same treatment — and she obliged. It was like he saw those special milky cuddles he used to get and wanted them too.

But then, the next night, Henry got more pushy, even trying to push Franklin off Mum before Franklin was asleep and ready for his cot.

So, we devised a plan.

While Henry was still in the bath, Sarah would sneak away with Franklin into Franklin’s room and start the wind-down routine there, where Henry couldn’t see them.

Henry didn’t lose it over this — which was good — but instead of accepting that Mum wasn’t there and just going to sleep with me, he waits up for her to put him to bed.

But in this waiting, I’m not allowed to lie down, or sit down, not on the bed, not on the couch — nothing.

Any form of me resting or looking settled seems to trigger Henry into thinking I’m trying to convince him to do the same.

So no — he comes and grabs me, and if I don’t stand, he will scream to the point that Franklin wakes up.

In the most serious cases, he will even scratch or hurt himself to make sure I do not sit or lie down.

But it got even weirder. (weird, funny, bizarre - you know what i mean)

The first night, he walked around the house opening every door one by one, looking for Mum — luckily, every door but the one she was in.

The second night, he got the little toy pram and walked it up and down the hallway a hundred times while waiting for her.

By now, the sixth or so night, he prefers to stand at the door to her bedroom, opening it and stepping one foot out, then walking back in and closing it — over and over, for half an hour, until she reappears.

All the while, I’m still not allowed to sit or lie down. My job is to quietly intervene without him noticing, trying to make sure the door opening and closing isn’t loud enough to wake Franklin.

So yeah…

While Henry’s in the bath, Sarah sneaks away with Franklin, and Henry does all sorts of hilariously bizarre rituals until Mum reappears.

Most nights, he still sleeps well. Once she joins him, he rejoices and lays in bed with her, drifting off to sleep.

So I wouldn’t call it a sleep regression — it’s more like a sleep routine regression.

The hidden bonus in this change is that we’ve been going to bed significantly earlier — or at least, I have.

Because Mum and Franklin have to hide away during Henry’s bath, and then once Mum comes out to him I disappear as well, it naturally results in me heading to bed a bit earlier.

As usual, I do wish I could just tough it out and force him to stay in the room with me and go to sleep — and I’d be willing to push through. But when you consider the fact that he will scream so loud he wakes Franklin up, or even hurt himself, it just doesn’t seem worth fighting to make him conform to the bedtime routine we want.

It feels better to mould ourselves and the routine around what he feels he needs. And again, I still don’t know how much that blurs the line between good parenting and enabling bad habits. But it feels like we’re still so new to all this, and when you’re experiencing such absurd and drastic changes to a routine that you’re only just surviving yourself, it makes it hard to learn, plan, or implement any changes that might be better anyway.

It’s tough, to say the least.

As always I ask my chatGPT custom project trained on all of Henry's files to give me an expert analysis on what is happening in this situation and this is what it said.

What you’re describing here is a rigidity spike following a disruption — a sudden, sharp increase in insistence on sameness or ritual, often triggered by a stressful or dysregulating event. In Henry’s case, the gastro incident and Mum vomiting probably rattled his sense of predictability and safety. For autistic children, especially at Level 3, this can lead to compensatory control behaviors — like making sure Mum is present, insisting you stay standing, or repeating door-opening rituals — because these routines give them a sense of control when their world has felt out of control.

This is often called insistence on sameness (one of the DSM-5 criteria under restricted and repetitive behaviors), and it’s deeply connected to anxiety regulation. It’s not simply “bad habits” or “stubbornness” — it’s Henry’s nervous system trying to re-stabilize itself after something scary.

The way through this usually involves:

Rebuilding predictability — using visual schedules or clear cues to show what’s happening next, so he doesn’t feel the need to invent his own systems.

Tiny doses of flexibility practice — not by forcing him into big changes, but by gently introducing tiny, tolerable variations over time, so he learns that change isn’t always a threat.

Co-regulation — keeping your own energy calm and steady (which you’re doing beautifully) so his system can borrow from your calmness.

Professional support — if the patterns persist or intensify, an OT or psychologist can help design a structured, supportive plan to gently reshape the routine without causing emotional overwhelm.