How My Son Jack Inspired NixIt: A Parent's Journey Toward Building a Life-Changing App

When my son Jack was born prematurely, we were thrown into the whirlwind of the NICU—beeping machines, hushed conversations, and the weight of uncertainty. He came into the world with a shock of bright red curls and piercing blue eyes—an ultra-rare combo, I later learned. But even rarer was the resilience I’d come to witness in him over the years.

In those early days, a nurse gently warned us that Jack might walk or talk late—or perhaps not at all. That moment shook me. But when we finally brought him home, what I saw wasn’t a diagnosis—I saw a beautiful, tiny boy with fire in his spirit.

Jack did walk, and early at that—he skipped crawling entirely and went straight into being a ninja monkey, climbing everything in sight. As he grew, the diagnoses started to trickle in—developmental delays, blindness in one eye, coordination issues, the whole alphabet soup. Autism came later, but deep down, I already knew. I watched from behind the glass during his evaluation, shrinking with each stroke of the clinician’s pen.

Even with all of that, Jack thrived in his own way. He couldn’t hit a baseball to save his life, but he could scale a rock wall like a spider. He had friends who were as quirky and wonderful as he was, and he found joy in the most unexpected places—especially anything robots.

And then came high school theater.

He auditioned on a whim and landed the role of Belle’s father in Beauty and the Beast—a part that, in hindsight, was written for a tinkerer just like him. Opening night, I watched through tears as Jack shuffled across the stage with a cart full of "inventions." He owned that moment. From there, theater became his world. His performance as Thenardier in Les Misérables junior year brought the house down. No wig needed—his wild red hair was already in full character.

Senior year, Jack was crowned Actor of the Year. He was even named Prom King. He may not think of himself as social, but his kindness and authenticity made him magnetic.

Then life got harder.

Jack graduated right before the pandemic. He tried community college but fell in with the wrong crowd. Slowly, substance use took hold. We had to make the impossible decision to ask him to leave our home. I watched my boy spiral—his vibrant energy dulled, his spark fading. Eventually, we got him into rehab. He’s been sober ever since.

Jack moved back in with us and began rebuilding his life. He found a job in a restaurant where he’s celebrated for being exactly who he is. He has a girlfriend, a new circle of friends, and a second chance.

But one night last summer, I woke up at 2AM, panicked. What happens when I’m not here anymore? Who’s going to help him remember to change the oil in his car? Go to the doctor? File his taxes? Life isn’t a checklist you can hand off—it’s a million small, executive-functioning tasks that pile up silently.

That night, the idea for NixIt was born.

With my background in software sales and operations, I knew I could build something that Jack—and others like him—could actually use. Paper planners don’t work. Sticky notes get lost. But what if we could meet him where he already was? What if we could build a smart, adaptive system that supports executive functioning, with oversight from caregivers and tools that actually adjust to real behavior?

NixIt (powered by AdeptExec) isn’t just an app. It’s a love letter to Jack. It’s a tool for every parent lying awake at night, wondering if their neurodivergent kid will be okay. It’s structure with compassion. It’s guidance without judgment. It’s empowerment with a safety net.

This is just the beginning. But it’s already the most important thing I’ve ever built.