Gavin accompanied me on a post-Christmas trip to the local Goodwill, and he learned first hand what goodwill means. After "receiving" so much at Christmas time, it was a good opportunity for him to do some giving.

Incognito, Sara had packed up a big black lawn bag full of forgotten toys and tied the top the best she could. To further avoid a huge confrontation on which toys to keep and what not to keep, I only casually mentioned that we had to take some "things" to the Goodwill, and not that his toys were involved. Most of the items are toys these kids have outgrown and had been shelved for more than year. A major un-cluttering was needed. I was silently hoping not to have to explain all of this to Gavin.

He cheerfully hops in my truck, happy to be in the front seat "where he can see the speed limit signs".

We arrive at the store, and I begin to remove the black bag. Gavin is now curious. I've used Goodwill as a threat in the past, i.e. "You boys better take care of your stuff, or I'll take it to Goodwill." Those threats were now surfacing in Gavin's brain as he eyed the overstuffed lawn bag.
"What do you do with the stuff here?" he asked.
"We leave it here at this building, and the man in there will give me a receipt."
"What can I do with a receipt?" He looked puzzled.
"Well, it's for my taxes, and it's like money." I wondered where his line of interrogation would take us, as I struggled to hoist the bag over the side of the truck.
"Can we go to Target with the money?" he pressed onward. Perfect! I'll deflect his questions by turning the conversation to income and deductions, rather than face a showdown over his, ahem, "donation".
"No, it's not really money. Its just a piece of paper that says I can keep more of the money I earn this year. The more toys we give away, the more money I can keep." Oh great - now I've done it. Toys, I said. The cat is out of the proverbial bag, and also Gavin's "Wheels On the Bus" game is plainly protruding through the top of the Hefty sack.
"Are those my toys?" he asked. I could instantly tell his blood pressure was rising, and I knew bomb defusion was my most critical skill at this moment.

"These were our family's toys, and since we have lots of new stuff to play with from Santa, we get to share these with other kids."   He pondered that for about 1 second, then started to pull the Wheels On the Bus game out of the bag. I let him struggle with that for a bit as I thought about the most tactful way to make this a teaching moment.

In the back of my mind, I guess I invited him on this mission to show him that my previous threats were not a bluff, that Goodwill really was a place I could - and darn well would - take his toys. So then I thought, to heck with it, let's get all the cards on the table here. What's the worst that could happen? "Well," I thought to myself, "He could scream at the top of his lungs and onlookers would think I'm a terrible dad." So what else is new? As long as he doesn't run out into traffic during the apocalyptic meltdown, I'm doing alright. Besides, I like to be glared at.

I opened the sack. He pulled out his Bus game, looked at the box with its happy bus full of students and singing driver, then held it under his arm as he probed further into the black bag. He was frantically trying to salvage anything he could. His breathing was becoming shallow and accelerated. Not a good sign.

I chose my words very carefully as I asked him, "Do you remember the last time you played with this game?"
"No."
"Well I do, and we had a lot of fun, but you were four. That was 2 years ago. Now we can let another little 4 year old have fun with it." I emphasized the phrase "little four year old" because Gavin relishes being an older, wiser, superior-in-all-ways first grader to the younger kids. That statement reached him, I think.

He didn't get a chance to respond. Just then, as if sent from above, (or maybe she had just been eavesdropping on our parking lot face-off) a smiling older woman approached us with a question for Gavin:

"Did you bring that here so that somebody else can play with it?" She asked, gesturing to the Wheels On the Bus game he clutched to his side. He stood silently looking at the game. He gets shy and clams up around people outside of our immediate family.
"Yes we did," I answered for him.
"Well my four year old grandson would just love to play with that at his house. He loves school busses. Would you like to give it to him?"
Again Gavin said nothing. He quickly scanned around the parking lot for the 4 year old she spoke of, as if the kid were there hiding, ready to burglarize all the toys.
"I can take it to him. He would be so happy," she continued.
Gavin loosened a bit, but remained non commital and silent.
"See Gav? This game is already going to a good family!" I prodded.
He stood as still as a statue, eyes staring at me, avoiding the nice lady. His eyes were full of conflict, like Frodo at the brim of Mt. Doom, wavering on his resolve to toss the One Ring into the fire.

I didn't know which way the scales were going to tip on this one. Previous data is saying that it'll probably end up with Gavin flat on his back in the parking lot, full blown melt down, and an awkward confused look from any adults present. For me, it was another one of those moments when I wished I had a sign. A sign to explain that my son isn't "neurotypical." A sign that says "He's not a brat. He has autism. He's really a sweet, loving kid. He and I are both doing the best we can."

Turns out no sign was needed.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, his eyes became teary and he straightforwardly held the game up to the lady.
"Oh thank you so much!" she gushed. "My grandson will have so much fun with this!" She took hold of the game. He let it go. The transaction actually went down without a hitch. Unbelievable.
"You're welcome," Gavin said sheepishly, then buried his red-flushed face in my coat.

That's my boy. Learning to be a giver, not just a receiver.

Nevertheless, I didn't waste any time tying the bag back up and carrying it into the donation center. He seemed smugly pleased with himself as he said to me,

"Dad. If we come here again we will just bring a small bag of stuff."

Now I'm the confused one. Did that statement mean he got the point, or not?

As the father of a 4 and a 2 year old, lack of sharing is the number one source of friction in our house. My 4 year old son, Gavin, has autism, which adds another element of frustration to the the equation. Garrett, the terrible 2, is really taking on his own little freethinking personality right now. It's an important time in both of their lives developmentally. Sharing is part of that developmental process.

Right now, I don't think either of these boys have the reasoning ability to share a toy for "just a little while." They know that sharing is the right thing to do, only because they have been told to share 10 times a day. But giving up a particular toy is like giving away part of themselves. They don't really understand the concept of time, so when that toy is not in their hands, it might as well be gone forever.

"Don't take!" is the refrain heard again and again around here. The "No Take" rule is most often broken by Gavin, since he is bigger and easily grabs whatever Garrett is playing with. A tug-of-war begins, and an adult must step in. One of us must referee the match, deciding who had what, and how to redirect the aggressor to another activity. This happens daily, and every time it happens I wish the kids could communicate better and work things out on their own. At this stage in their lives, I know that's not going to happen. These kids can really get into a cycle of Take, Tattle, and Tantrum.

Does it sound hopeless yet? Well, since the title of this article is How to Get Kids to Share, I guess I will share with you some of my own solutions to a less combative, more harmonious household. For starters, I feel that it is very important for each child to get as much love and connection from the parent as he needs. When they feel connected, they feel more confident and happy, and are willing to play together civilly.

Trying to constantly get these kids to take turns is enough to drive everybody crazy. I don't do time limits anymore. Setting a short term time limit on how long each kid gets to play with a particular toy is a recipe for disaster. Our most coveted item right now is the Tonka Fire Truck. With set time limits, neither kid gets what he wants. If Gavin has it first, when Garrett finally gets his chance to play with the fire truck he takes it into another room to protect his turn from his brother. It becomes more important to him to keep the truck in his possesion than to actually use it for enjoyment.

I've stopped trying to make sure each kid gets equal time with toys in the short term, and begun to focus more on the big picture. Garrett gets the fire truck today, and Gavin gets the ambulance. Gavin will be mad about it and I'll have to hold him to calm him down. Tomorrow they can switch. If tomorrow comes and Garrett still wants that fire truck, I'll have to hold him through his tantrum. It'll take a few minutes, but I know it will make him feel good to unload all of that emotion, and hopefully he'll feel better about letting Gavin take his turn. If it doesn't solve the conflict, walking away with him to another room and reading a couple favorite books (after the tears subside) has been working too. He returns to play by Gavin much calmer and less self absorbed. This way, both kids get a turn with the toy, and even better - a turn at quality time with dad!

When we're too busy to give them 100% of ourselves, they share less, and are very possessive. I don't think you have to divide your attention exactly 50/50 for each kid, just give them as much as they need. For example, I know that Gavin does require more attention than Garrett. If Garrett is doing something positive that brings him my attention (i.e. building a tower or asking to spell a word) Gavin will mimic him to get that same attention. That tells me Gavin is needing to feel more connection, more of the love. Whether that is autism or just his unique personality, I don't know. What I do know is that things run a lot more smoothly around here if these kids feel secure. When things aren't going their way, they need a place to vent their frustrations.

When one of these kids is thirsty or needs a snack, it's a great opportunity to keep them caring about each other's needs, too. If Gavin needs a drink, we'll make 2 drinks and have him carry one to Garrett, and vice versa. This way, their interactions aren't always just about themselves, and getting what the other kid has. i think it builds empathy, which is hard for both 2 year olds and kids with autism.

The key element here is that the kids need to feel connected no matter what. Each child needs to feel that everything will be okay, and there's a parent there to shelter them through the storm. When they can't have what they want right away, I've found its best to stay with them while they wait for it, and reassure them in simple terms that its not the end of the world. In the event that one of these boys decides to willingly share a toy with the other, the unselfish one is rewarded greatly with hugs and praise. Hopefully these kids will grow to be confident enough in themselves not to need intervention every time a problem arises.