One of the aspects I cherish most when writing about my son is the shared understanding that often exists among readers. They might not agree with everything I think or even have autism affect their homes in the same way it affects mine, but there’s still a sense of connection. We form a kind of unified community. We “get” it.

I rarely use the term “tribes” or expressions like “warriors.” Those phrases tend to carry a certain intensity that I’ve usually found excessive. In this case, though, “tribe” feels applicable because as families with members on the autism spectrum, we share a common understanding. Whether your child is non-verbal like mine or “higher functioning”, you still know that there are certain universal truths to our worlds.

Things like stress over events come to mind. In our case, I worry about Lucas lunging for food, making a mess, or having a meltdown halfway through the day. In the case of others, it could be social anxiety, isolation, overstimulation of senses, or a laundry list of other things. Either way, we all share a sense of how autism can add stress to an event while most other parents might simply stress over what present to buy.

It’s weird to write about because, honestly, I never ask for special treatment due to my little guy’s autism. I want him to be treated the same as everyone else. He’s my son – a boy with autism, sure, but still a boy.

However, party invitations at inopportune times have long been a struggle. As he gets older, he’s become more adaptable to these calendar add-ons. Back in the proverbial day, though, they were somewhat terrifying.

I think back to my daughter’s first Christmas Tree lighting with the Girl Scouts. It was the three of us at jam-packed town hall and my son, just emerging into his own, had taken up the art of running. He ran everywhere and nowhere all at once. His finish line was more like a pivot point to return from, rather than a straightforward journey. Occasionally, he’d collide with a wall or, as happened during a brief two-minute detour to GameStop, with a shelf of Xbox 360 games.

“Emerging into his own” is the key phrase here because I was in no way prepared for his energy level when we went to this lighting ceremony. Packed with kids, we were expected to wait in line as my daughter went up to place her ornament on the tree. Lucas was having none of it.

Tongue out, beaming smile, and the speed of a cheetah, he zigzagged up and down the hallway as I, visibly rattled, chased him down. When I grabbed him, he came slamming into my arms and we both swayed over about a foot.

As we did, we knocked into the path of a mom. We didn’t even knock into her, but simply near her. Still, overly apologetic and flustered, I said, “Sorry.”

To this, she let out a loud, “Damnit!”

And walked away in a huff.

I still see that woman around town as my teenage daughter lives her teenage life. I doubt she remembers this random encounter from a million years ago. But I do, lady. I do.

You’d think most people would recognize that this minor inconvenience for them could have been much worse if it wasn’t for me, as his parent, trying to calm the situation. She could silently acknowledge the effort that I’m putting into making sure my boy doesn’t cause chaos and react with a sense of subdued irritation, at best. I know that if I was in her position, I would.

But she didn’t. In this case, it could be because she lacks the ability to perceive such things in others. The planet houses its share of self-centered individuals, and for many, the concerns of others rarely factor in. Their world revolves solely around their own needs. They would act with the same dismissive attitude if we were battling any challenge, issue, or family emergency. That’s just who some people are.

Remember, I go out of my way to keep my boy from doing things that would severely impact another person. Stealing food or jostling a baby can be counted among those things. Almost knocking into a person or his trademark screeches in an otherwise loud setting is not.

Those screeches can be surprising sometimes and, as his dad, I had always tried to get him to reel the decibels down. Still, they’re part of his demeanor. When he gets excited, he sometimes shouts with glee. I do my best to remember, though, that during quiet times like recitals or concerts, we need to step outside.

Family events, though, are a different matter. As long as he isn’t recreating a hardcore death metal fan’s experience at a Monsters of Rock concert for three hours straight, I allow him a fair amount of leeway. After all, this is who he is. If he doesn’t hurt someone or make it impossible for people to enjoy themselves, then he’s fine.

One Thanksgiving, while on his iPad, he let out a loud scream. A family member who, by general consensus, should have known better, turned to him with a shocked look. He didn’t even look up as he was still excited about his Youtube. So, she said…get ready for this…

Use your inside voice.

People reading this and understanding the situation are likely having their own reactions. They’re envisioning how they would handle the scenario, and each imagined response is a kind of dramatic, heroic endeavor. I’m even doing the same.

At the time, Lucas was still small, freshly diagnosed. There was a little voice in my head that thought, in some world, maybe that was a reasonable thing to say. I knew so little about autism. After all, you say that to kids, right? He’s a kid.

But yeah. No. I thought about it the whole day. It was nuts but still, a little bit of hope in mind wanted him to look up and say, “Oh. Yeah. My bad. Sorry, chica.” No dice.

Stories like this are fewer and farther between than I ever would have believed when I first learned my son might never speak. While Autism Awareness can spark controversy, it has played a positive role in generating exposure and reducing instances like these. As a parent to a non-verbal child with autism, I braced myself for numerous comments and stares over the years, yet they’ve been surprisingly few.

This makes me smile and fosters optimism about the world my son will inhabit as an adult. I’m diligently working to help him become the best version of himself, and those who grasp the situation truly do. As for those who don’t, perhaps they never will.

And ultimately that’s their loss.