When I was little, Sesame Street ruled my world. I spent hours watching all that the Children’s Television Workshop would put out there.

One of my favorite cartoons was about a goat who got mad. That was his thing. Someone did something to him and he got “ma-a-a-a-a-d!” Flailing his hooves and shaking from side to side, Goaty would lose his animated mind on them.

That goat was my spirit animal.

He was the only thing on the Street that really displayed anger. Oscar may have been grouchy, but this guy was truly angry. In the end, everyone celebrated it. It was wild.

Back then, getting mad was a full-contact sport. Little boys toss themselves into the wall and crack video game controllers like bullwhips. I kicked things. I punched things. I put balled-up paper into holes I made in walls and put tape over them. That’s what mad was.

As we grow up, though, life tempers our actions with wisdom. We start to realize that getting angry isn’t always the best course of action. Whether it’s personal health or simply living in society, easing up on the emotional output usually benefits a person.

Today, I’m fairly zen. Sure, I have my moments, but we all do. If a stranger comes at me at the wrong time with the wrong issue, I can go off the deep end. Those times are few and far between. I’m maturing. This is what adulthood looks like.

Often, I talk about the purity of my non-verbal son’s soul. My feeling of autism appreciation centers around that. Lucas doesn’t fake his feelings or pretend to be anything he’s not. His “challenges” help to contribute to his most beautiful personality traits.

When I say that, people assume I mean his happiness and loving nature. They’d be right. However, there are also parts of his personality that I admire, although I might not encourage.

Take Lucas to a place he doesn’t want to be and he will fake it as best he can. Since he was little, we’ve worked on his patience and today, at twelve years old, he can handle himself pretty well in those public places.

Keep him there too long, though, and he will start to whine and slide down in his chair. Before you know it, he’s laying flat on the floor with a look of “get me out of here.” The baby elephant sounds, as I call them, only accentuate his agitation with whatever boring thing I forced him to attend.

And I look down at him and think, “You and me both, kid.”

We spend so much time talking about how to calm our children’s meltdowns and that’s very important. Making sure that our children are happy and acting out properly are vital. However, we rarely talk about how, well, we kind of envy it.

Who doesn’t want to throw themselves on the floor during a Zoom meeting? Just put your hands over your ears and go, “Ehhhhhhhhh! Stop!” Can you imagine? You are. You’re picturing it right now.

On a different scale, that’s what my son does. I watch him do it and my mind is so preoccupied on helping him out of it that I don’t even think of how closely his thinking is to mine in that moment. This is the purest of personalities on full display.

The truth is that for all of his behaviors that I correct, I think how understandable they are. Out of Pirate Booty? Ahhh! No more iPad? Ahhh! Go to bed? Ahhh. I get it, kid. I wish I could do it all myself.

Still, I need to make sure he understands how the world around him works. He can’t get all goaty on these people every time he gets ma-a-a-d. My boy needs to dim the light in his reactions and I need to help him do it.

My boy’s emotions shine brighter than anyone I’ve ever known. The frustrations he must feel during times when his lack of language keeps him from being understood are on a level that I can’t even begin to comprehend. His point of view is so unique and so intense that simply talking about “dealing with emotional outbursts” is like throwing a napkin into the ocean to dry it all up. It doesn’t address the sheer magnitude of it all.

Respecting my son’s feelings during these times is the most important thing for me. Well, second most important. First, I ensure safety. While he would never attack a person, his flailing to the ground can sometimes come off a little demolition-esque. After making sure of that, I focus on helping him even out.

If Lucas is on the floor, I sit beside him. With one hand, I’ll rub his back and whisper “shhh” in his ear. It might take a song on my phone or hug. Sometimes it takes nothing and I just have to let him get it all out. Either way, he’s a person. His meltdowns are a response. They’re not a deliberate attempt to be “naughty” for no reason.

At the end of the day, I get it. I don’t just get it because I’m his dad. I get it because I was once a kid too and my spirit animal was an angry goat.