Content Warning: this article discusses the dangers of making children vulnerable to abuse and manipulation, but does not discuss specific instances of abuse.

Not long ago there was a debate on a British morning TV show, the topic being “should we ask for consent before tickling a child?” The debate made headlines and spread to the internet, where the general reaction from the public was “what kind of stupid question is that?”

Oddly, there were two completely different reasons for that reaction. Half the public thought it was a stupid question because tickling should be a natural indispensable part of childhood, and any attempt to get rid of it must be nanny-stating, PC gone mad, or whatever.

The other half thought it was a stupid question because maybe, just maybe, a child should have a say in whether an adult grabs them by the belly and/or the armpits.

Given the way I phrased that, you’ve probably guessed what my opinion is. And it comes from a safeguarding perspective rather than a social one. If a child doesn’t get to control when they are tickled, they learn that other people get to decide what happens to their body, not them. (Oh, and that they’re ‘spoiling the fun’ if they don’t let the other person get their way.)

This, of course, applies to any situation where a child has a physical interaction with someone – wrestling, hugs, and all etcs – and whether the other person’s an adult or another child.

If you wanted me to sum up this whole article in one sentence, it would be this:.

Physical contact should happen on the child’s terms rather than the adult’s, and the child should be taught to know this.

This article was heavily influenced by something I read not long ago. Once in a while you read an article that heavily shapes the way you see things, and this was one of them: When you’re on the autism spectrum, consent is complicated. [All links on this site open in new tabs.]

Being an educator myself, I can give you chapter and verse about safeguarding training and guidance. I know what signs to look for in a child enduring abuse, and I can recite word-for-word the process to follow if a child discloses abuse to an adult. But reading these words about consent from Lola Phoenix, an autistic woman who endured sexual abuse throughout childhood, was harrowing. I suggest that everyone reading this should read that article too.

Truthfully, we don’t talk about these subjects enough. Largely because the topic’s so difficult to talk about, and it’s easier to keep silent about awkward subjects. But silence leads to abuse, and the fact that it’s so difficult to talk about guarantees that we must talk about it.

(Incidentally, one thing I found particularly frightening about Phoenix’s article was how similar her childhood perspective was to my own: that the opinions of more socially able people would automatically take priority over mine. I may have had the literal ability to say ‘no’, but it seemed like other people had a choice in whether or not to respect my wishes. Despite this I was thankfully never abused as a child, but these days I know many vulnerable autistic children – professionally and socially – several of whom have significant learning difficulties. And honestly, I’m bloody terrified. This article was basically written out of fear for the young autistic people I care about.)

So what is The Stop Rule?

Pretty much what it sounds like.

I once knew two young siblings who used to play-fight all the time. And they’d usually go far enough for one of them to end up in tears. Fairly standard among boisterous children, I know. And with the blessing of their parents, I stepped in and offered them some guidance:

“If you want to fight each other and you both enjoy it, then fine – go right ahead. But there is one absolutely unbreakable rule that you both need to follow. The moment one of you says “stop”, the other person will stop. Right there, right then, no questions asked.

At the time, this wasn’t even a safeguarding strategy. It was teaching them a lesson in self-control, in mutual respect, and knowing how to not take things too far. But after reading Phoenix’s article, I later came to see The Stop Rule as an opportunity to teach bodily autonomy to young people, and give them opportunities to practise saying no with the expectation that it must be listened to.

Let me be clear: when you tickle a child with learning difficulties (this includes academic high-flyers with social difficulties), you can either make them less vulnerable to abuse or more vulnerable to abuse, depending on what rules you have in place, what opportunities the child has to express their wishes, and what they are taught to expect from adults in return.

And in case you missed it, read that last paragraph again. It’s important.

An example in teaching bodily autonomy

I often visit my friend Julie, whose daughter Eliza (just turned ten years old) loves having me there. She’s autistic and has social learning difficulties, as well as a history of communication struggles. She’s also a sensory seeker, and very tactile with those she lets into her world.

This was a photo taken during a talk I gave in India, where I spoke about the importance of professionals respecting their young clients’ right to autonomy. And despite the serious subject matter, I have to admit I love that headswap picture.

For example, Eliza loves being carried and being tickled. She demands both from me, which I’m happy to do. And the general pattern goes like this:

She says “carry me Chris,” and I pick her up. She immediately says “put me down,” and I put her down. The moment her toes hit the floor she immediately says “carry me Chris” again, and so on. This continues literally dozens of times, because she loves repetition.

From my perspective, it gets grating. Because it’s utterly exhausting to pick her up and put her down endless times, and it’s also a little annoying to start/stop something whilst knowing it’ll change three seconds later.

But every time she asks me to put her down or stop tickling, I stop. Every time. No questions asked. Even if she’s clearly going to reverse her decision a moment later. Even if she’s clearly doing it just to wind me up. Whenever she says stop, I stop.

The reason should be obvious: it’s showing basic respect towards Eliza and her wishes. But there is one extra reason: I don’t want Eliza to grow up thinking that sentences like “stop doing that” give the other person a choice.

If Eliza does the start/stop thing a hundred times in one night, she will get a hundred examples of what must happen when she tells someone to stop. I want to solidify it in her brain that it’s a basic expectation for the other person to respect her wishes.

I want her to understand that if she says stop and the other person doesn’t stop, then something is wrong.

And if it involves backache from a hundred lifts instead of one, then my back is going to ache. I don’t care.

We should tell children specifically that they’re allowed to say no.

Stepping away from The Stop Rule for a moment, I’d like to share the details of a talk I have started giving to young individuals who struggle with saying no. I have given this talk to autistic and non-autistic alike, and children and teenagers alike. Sometimes the young person struggles to speak up because of anxiety, sometimes they feel they’re “not allowed” to change their mind after saying yes to something, and (most commonly of all) sometimes they’re conscientious and don’t want to risk offending the other person.

When I see the signs of one of these, I have a chat with the young person’s parents and ask if it would be helpful to have a talk to them about it. (This is a very important principle if you’re advising young people outside of your family, whether professionally or socially. The parents must be aware and kept closely involved. Both for transparency reasons, and because you’ll do a better job with their insights and advice anyway.)

Feel free to steal this conversation, and adapt it as you see fit.

If the conversation was sparked by a certain event, I start off by referring to that event: what happened, how they responded, and why they responded that way (non-judgementally, of course). I then tell them that being conscientious and polite are wonderful qualities, and seeking to not offend people is quite honourable. But it should never override their right to say no to things they’re uncomfortable with.

I give them two reasons why it’s so important to say they’re uncomfortable rather than just think it:

  • First, the other person might genuinely have no idea they feel uncomfortable. Taking me for example, I’m quite open about my struggles with comfort zones and it probably explains why I like people being so specific with me. If you don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable, I won’t figure it out. And even leaving autism out of the equation, a lot of the time just saying “I don’t like this” is enough to make the person apologise and change their actions. (And either way, being specific removes any reasonable chance of misunderstanding or misinterpretation.)
  • And secondly… you can learn a lot about the other person by the way they respond to you saying no. If the person apologises and stops (note that the worded apology should be backed up with actions), then it’s likely you can trust them. If they try to make you feel guilty for saying no, or seem unduly offended (to the extent that their needs are portrayed as more important than yours), then that should ring alarm bells.

Either way, if you want to see how respectful a person is, tell them “no” and watch what happens next.

There is an extra bit I add on to this, particularly if the young person is conscientious and doesn’t want to run the risk of offending people. I say:

“Anyone who truly cares about you, myself included, is unlikely to get offended by you saying you’re uncomfortable. But imagine that I ask to take you to a massive death metal concert, with big crowds, loads of alcohol and loud raging music, and you feel pretty scared about it. And let’s pretend that when you say no, I actually do get offended by you refusing to come along. In that situation… don’t give a shit.”

And yes, with anyone aged 12+ I use that exact wording (unless it’s someone I work with professionally, of course). I have a reputation for not swearing both online and offline, because I use it so sparingly – in situations where I need it to have an impact.

After the look of surprise, I then say:

“Because whose feelings matter more in that situation? The adult who wants a rock buddy, or the young person who literally feels scared? The moment someone asks you to do something, or whether you want something, or for your permission to do something, your feelings automatically matter more than theirs. Be thoughtful of other people, sure. Be caring and compassionate and everything else you are. But never forget that you’re a priority too.”

Like I said, feel free to steal those words and adapt them as you see fit, for use with anyone who doesn’t feel able to say no to things.

Ok, now let’s bring this back to autism.

“How are autistic people meant to negotiate boundaries when they spend the vast majority of their lives having their own boundaries ignored, trampled, or ridiculed?”

This question was the opening sentence of Phoenix’s article, and it’s a bloody good one.

Remember that picture earlier of me talking in India? During that talk, I spoke out quite firmly against the way ABA is often practised. (ABA, for those who don’t know, is the standard go-to “treatment” for autism in the US, and is threatening to gain ground in Britain too. Although it’s practised differently depending on the professional, its roots are fairly ugly – even being invented by the same man who invented gay conversion therapy.)

The biggest concern I have about ABA personally is how it’s so often used as a means of making an autistic child appear less autistic. That the “removal of autistic behaviours” is seen as a priority over teaching the child to communicate their needs, express their concerns and self-advocate. And that, all too often, the child is “displaying defiant behaviour” if they complain about being made to feel uncomfortable by the demands placed on them.

If ABA must happen, the child must always have the option of saying “I’ve had enough”, or “I don’t want to”. Otherwise, they will never feel safe in those sessions. And let’s be honest, they would be right to not feel safe under those circumstances. The next adult who tries to make them do uncomfortable things might not be trying to teach them life skills.

I made this picture for Autistic Not Weird’s Facebook page:

To those who are reading this and second-guessing their child’s ABA therapy, this is an excellent guide that offers clear and objective guidance about ABA to parents of autistic children.

Long story short: if you want an autistic child to learn about boundaries, teach them about their own. If you want an autistic child to learn about respecting boundaries, respect theirs too.

Some FAQs about The Stop Rule:

What if my child is nonverbal or struggles with spoken communication?

I don’t claim to be an expert in nonverbal communication, but I know that nonverbal communication can still be loud and clear. If the child can’t express themselves with spoken words, having a clear and specific signal can have the same effect.

For example, I had a discussion with the mother of a seven-year-old autistic boy who liked play-fighting whenever he got the chance, but found himself unable to speak in the middle of it (despite otherwise being very vocal).

However, he was familiar with WWE and how matches work between competitors: that if Finn Bálor is pinning Braun Strowman so hard that the poor guy can’t carry on, he “taps out”- smacking his hand against the floor to signify that he’s quitting the match.

Leaving aside the fact that Braun Strowman is such a titanic brick wall that he’d almost never tap out to anyone (yeah, he’s one of my favourites), the point is fairly clear. All this child needed was someone to remind him of what the wrestlers do, and suddenly he had his way of saying “stop”. And to this day, whenever he’s had enough he taps out, nice and clear.

Can this be useful in teaching a child about other people’s boundaries, as well as their own?

Yes! The Stop Rule goes both ways. It goes all ways.

This exact same child was just as physical with the family cat as he tends to be with humans, and often struggled to recognise when he was going too far. The cat could hardly tell him with words that he was being too rough, and this lad was no better at reading the cat’s body language as I would have been at his age.

Last time I was round for a visit, I saw him playing with the cat as usual, and the cat was clearly uncomfortable – waving its tail, shuffling backwards, and moving away from the boy’s hands.

Somewhat impulsively, my exact words were “Nathan, the cat’s tapping out.” Immediately, he stopped and let the cat go.

Nothing much happened after that, but the next day I got a message from his mother. It simply read:

“Nathan has been stepping away from the cat when he puts his paw up saying ‘ok you have tapped out’… result! Thank you for that!”

How quick should I expect my child to understand this?

It doesn’t matter. Teach it anyway, reinforce it anyway.

With that said, you may be surprised at how quickly it’s understood. Sure, most social conventions are really complicated (e.g. dropping unclear hints in order to be “polite”, or understanding social comfort zones when nobody talks about them specifically). But when it has a physical element attached to it and is more overtly related to what’s comfortable and what isn’t, rules may be easier to pick up.

Surprisingly, I’ve seen The Stop Rule enhance language skills as well. After preaching the Stop Rule Gospel to a friend of mine, her ten-year-old son – who communicates almost entirely through echolalia – learned to say “stop” almost immediately during all the tickle-fights he kept demanding. It very quickly evolved into a stop-start game (similar to Eliza above), with him saying “stop… yes… stop… yes.” Apparently within ten minutes it had become “stop… start… stop… start.” After that he was saying the names of body parts he wanted tickling, and the phrase “get off” when he’d had enough (or even as part of his stop-start game, “feet… get off… feet… get off.”).

By the end, I’m told he was saying “please can you get off me feet please”. And all the while, he was having enormous fun.

But it’s vital to mention: whereas these games might help with verbal expression, it should never be an objective. Advanced language would only be a bonus, nothing more. Otherwise you end up with a terrified child, who fears being tickled into saying words that they struggle with. Any form of “stop”, verbal or nonverbal, must always be accepted and respected.

(Historically, this boy’s favourite form of “stop” has always been “I need a wee!!” Because that absolutely guarantees that everyone will let go of him! Of course, he knows his parents would let go of him no matter how he expressed it, but what kind of young boy doesn’t love toilet humour?)

Isn’t there a risk that my child will use it to start refusing to follow regular instructions (e.g. going to bed, doing homework)?

Yes. Thanks to Eliza’s school teaching her the value of self-advocacy too, she has started trying to avoid schoolwork by “exercising my right to say no” (yep, those were her literal words).

But again, teach it anyway. No matter how annoying it gets. Would you rather have an annoying but confident child who can stand up for themselves, or a shy child whose lack of self-advocacy skills might put them at risk of manipulation?

In my opinion, the best way of handling it is explaining why a certain rule must be followed. Schoolwork must be completed because it’s teaching you important skills. Going to bed on time is important because it gives you more energy for the next day. Taking your disgusting medicine is important because it will help you feel better later on.

(Yes, I’m from the school of thought that believes “because I’m the adult and I say so!” is never a sufficient reason to ask for a child’s compliance. If you can’t give them an actual reason beyond just exercising your authority, then maybe the command shouldn’t be obeyed.)

What else can this be applied to?

Just about everything where boundaries exist. The other day I watched an autistic boy swivel-chair-jousting (yes, swivel-chair-jousting). Leaving aside the fact that playing with the swivel-chair was self-regulation for this 11-year-old during a long and boring day, it was also a lot of fun. So instead of telling him not to do it, his mother and I taught him how to do it safely.

Trust me, it’s more valuable that way. My parents taught me how to climb trees safely. So I kept climbing and took precautions, recognising that climbing would only get dangerous if I chose to stop paying attention. If my parents had banned me from climbing trees altogether, I would probably have kept on climbing anyway – my only precaution being making sure I had no witnesses.

And yes, teaching children how to chair-joust may sound childish. But, as I’ve said before, your childhood lasts as long as you let it. The key is learning how to be responsible at the same time as being childlike.

And finally:

There is one additional reason why we really need to stop when an autistic child asks. (And this applies to autistic adults too.)

It’s just the respectful thing to do with another human.

Like it or not, autistic children are treated differently to their peers – and not necessarily in order to accommodate their needs. Autistic children are all too often assumed to not be ‘less worthy’ of being listened to, because of their condition and because of how it impacts their communication.

So I often encourage people to ask themselves this question: would I react differently if this were a non-autistic child? And if so, how is the autistic child benefitting from me treating them differently?

If you wouldn’t treat them the same as a non-autistic child, and there is no benefit to them in you doing so, then perhaps it’s worth taking a moment to consider whether the child is the one who struggles with boundaries.

That’s it from me: as always, you’re more than welcome to join Autistic Not Weird’s Facebook community, or take a look at my YouTube channel.

And for those who feel my work is worth supporting, writing for Autistic Not Weird is literally my job. Here’s a link to my Patreon page for those who want to help me keep doing this for a living, in exchange for various rewards.

Take care, and I really hope this has been helpful. This subject matter isn’t discussed enough, and there is so much hurt that can be prevented if we choose to talk about it.

Chris Bonnello / Captain Quirk


Are you tired of characters with special needs being tokenised and based on stereotypes, or being the victims rather than the heroes? This novel series may interest you!

Underdogs, a near-future dystopia series where the heroes are teenagers with special needs, is a character-driven war story which pitches twelve people against an army of millions, balancing intense action with a deeply developed neurodiverse cast.

Book one can be found here:

Amazon UK | Amazon US | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
Audible (audiobook version)
Book Depository
Review page on Goodreads

Chris Bonnello is a national and international autism speaker, available to lead talks and training sessions from the perspective of an autistic former teacher. For further information please click here (opens in new window).
Autistic Not Weird on Facebook

Autistic Not Weird on YouTube  

Twitter  |  Instagram

Copyright © Chris Bonnello 2015-2020  

About The Author

9 Responses

  1. Jade

    This is such an important topic. I totally agree with everything here. Everyone should understand they can say no and everyone should respect that no. Having said that as a parent to young children it is really hard to respect every no. Just this evening I had to cut my 3 year old’s nails. I hate doing it because I know he hates it, he was shouting no at me but I knew it needed doing and whilst I explained this to him I know he didn’t fully understand.

    At the same time as a parent its about teaching boundaries and my eldest who is non verbal is very clear when he is and isn’t happy to be touched and whilst I always respect this it amazes me how many people ignore his obvious discomfort and kiss or pat him on the head anyway. I think the stop rule is such a vital lesson and I will be working to help my kids understand it.

  2. Remus

    I think we are on the right path with this article, but I think that what is not clear is where you ask for permission and where you impose a rule as parent (by using authority or even physical constraints). This article leaves the impression that you always ask permission, which I am not sure of.
    To give you some concrete examples, it is OK to ask permission to hug your autistic child, but what about if your autistic child is doing something dangerous or difficult to bear for him or others? Such as not wanting to sleep when it’s the middle of the night or not wanting to go to school? (yes both of them can be dangerous in short/long term). I suppose autistic children should learn that their bodies is under their full control, what they eat (with some exceptions), when they go to toilet and how (with some exceptions), who touches them and how etc… but it is equally important to learn that where they are, and how they affect others is not under their full control. And this is valid in life as well. Sometimes, where you are and what you need to do is not under your control (if you cannot handle yourself on the street you should not be able to go out by yourself; you need to earn money and you cannot do it anyway you want, there are some limits; your parents won’t be there to support you forever). But it is extremely important to always explain your child WHY, to build critical thinking and to promote understanding of what happens in life.

  3. Pony

    Yes! Thank you!

    I really needed to read this. I’ve always struggled with saying “no”, and while I’ve significantly improved in exploring and setting my boundaries, I still have a hard time figuring out what to do when I’m touched.

    See, I’m not a very touchy person, but some of my family members/friends – especially my sister, my grandma, and my best friend – are. They mean no harm. They just need a lot of physical contact to feel loved. And that’s okay. I’m fine with a quick hug or a tap on the shoulder (I even initiate things like this), but the constant hugs and kisses often make me feel very uncomfortable. But I don’t want to disappoint them, so I never even thought of verbalizing my objection.

    My best friend, however, is a whole different story. She loves long and awkward hugs. Generally, I’m okay with a hug – for three seconds. A thirty-second hug, however, looks and feels very awkward. And she does that in PUBLIC. I tried stiffening, pulling away, squirming, giving verbal hints like “OK, now” or “ummmm….”, and her only reaction was to hold on even tighter. Which basically means “I understand you don’t want this, but we’re doing it my way”. And she even giggles happily before finally letting me go – she thinks it’s cute and funny. She’s an amazing person otherwise, but this is driving me insane.

    I usually endure the hugs because she gets very little love and affection from her family and her classmates. I want to be there for her and show her how much I love and appreciate her, and I *know* she would take it very personally if I very firmly told her to stop. Do you think I could do it anyway? Or how would you talk to her about it?

    • CaptainQuirk

      Ouch, that’s a difficult one! On the one hand you absolutely have the right to establish your own comfort zones and make them clear. On the other hand, compassion is obviously important- especially when the other person’s been made to feel vulnerable.
      For what it’s worth, I have a friend who loves hugs while his friends do not. They have an informal agreement that he gets one hug per conversation. They discussed it honestly yet humorously, and everyone has found a healthy compromise now.

  4. RFC

    Don’t mean to come across as a smart alec, know-it-all, but the ABA thing you mentioned creeping across the Atlantic to the UK has actually already been in common usage here for us Aspies for several decades now.

    I attended a residential school from the age of 9-11 (during the years 1986-88) and was on the receiving end of such treatment, even for my responding inappropriately to things that were totally out of my control, such as other children there deliberately trying to make me laugh, and obviously gaining immense pleasure from witnessing me being severely chastised by staff members at said school (e.g. one day on a walk in the school’s local surrounding countryside being forced to walk backwards so this sadistic bully of a (female) classroom assistant could see my face at all times as to whether I was giggling or not, and ended up falling over into nettles and being stung after losing my balance, and this was after about two minutes of being smacked on the bum from behind from that very same CA in the name of a ‘sharp shock’ which did nothing to make me behave). So all in all I was not only bullied by other kids at said school but also bullied by the staff as a sort of consequence for being bullied by those other kids deliberately trying to make me laugh or provoke a meltdown in me. The good old days of the 80sand 90s? Over my dead body!!

    Even now at the age of 42 and generally being far more able than ever before I still have quite intense flashbacks to and bad dreams about that god-awful period of abuse I suffered in that hell-hole of a residential school. I even have fantasies in my head about physically harming some of the sadist staff members and certain other pupils there who constantly made my tenure at said school nothing but a living hell, but would never actually do that as I would most certainly end up in jail for the rest of my life, which in turn would be even more inhumane, given a lot of the horror stories in the news concerning such institutions over recent years.


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This
%d bloggers like this:
More in Autism/Asperger's, Growing up
50 ways to help autistic people

So it's World Autism Awareness Month again! Those who follow Autistic Not Weird's Facebook page [links open in new tabs]...