When my daughter’s phone broke last week, her biggest panic wasn't about losing her photos or social media.
She was terrified of losing her "wallet." My daughter Noga is 27 and has severe dyscalculia. For years, money meant anxiety. To help her, I ended up coding a custom app that totally bypasses the need to calculate. She just puts in the price, and the screen shows her a visual picture of the exact physical bills and coins she needs to hand the cashier. Just matching shapes and colors. As a developer and a mom, seeing her panic over the broken phone was actually a weirdly proud moment. It made me realize that the true test of an assistive tool isn't just whether it works clinically—it's whether it reduces the cognitive load so well that the person actually wants to rely on it in the real world. When we got her a new phone, it was the very first app she installed, and she went straight to the store by herself. For the parents or UX designers here—how do you measure when an everyday tool truly becomes a "cognitive crutch" for someone neurodivergent?