I write a lot about thoughts, feelings, and progress I’ve made both personally and as father to my children. The ways in which I’ve learned to bond with my son and parent my daughter, along with life changing moments across the board, have all happened over the past nearly-seven years of writing. It’s all there. It’s all documented.

The time can pass by in the blink of an eye, but it feels longer when looking back at where things stood for us during different points. Snapshots of life contrasted against a blur of momentum can show how different people, places, and situations have become.

So much of our story centers on Lucas. My little man was only five freakin’ years old when I started writing this. Today, he’s twelve and could gobble the little Lucas up whole. Chomp, gulp, gone. I fear for baby Lucas.

He also still has not said his first word. That is a major thing and, if I could go back and time and tell myself that, I wouldn’t. The me from then wouldn’t know how to process it. He wouldn’t have known what that looks like in real time or how his son would grow into the great kid he is now, even without language. It would be the worst part of a bigger and more beautiful story. I wouldn’t have understood.

I also wouldn’t have seen the progress he’s made in other areas. The person my son was in 2017 is far from the person he is today.

The digital records I’ve been keeping since then are filled with things that aren’t struggles anymore. From major sleep issues to stealing food to sudden meltdowns, I’ve talked about the struggles and triumphs we’ve faced. Many of them are mere memories. Many of them are stories about a boy who isn’t here anymore. Many of them were starting points to tales that ended with his victory.

His love for running immediately springs to mind. When I first started writing these, it was still a big problem. He’d leap from the school bus without looking for passing cars. Malls and halls were all prime places for him to get all Speedy Gonzalez on us. People would be mere obstacles as if he was playing “Paperboy” for the NES. My kid was gone.

Today, that’s a distant memory. Lucas might wander if he’s engrossed in his iPad, but he won’t escape or leave the house. I’m lucky in that respect and, after years of this being the norm, I take it for granted. Reading back on old posts remind me of who he was. It helps me to appreciate the work he’s done to become who he is.

If I had been stuck harping on verbal language as his only goal, I’d be setting myself up for a perpetual disappointment. Putting all your eggs into one basket brings about tunnel vision. Soon you don’t get to celebrate the many accomplishments because you’re lamenting the one lone loss.

Thinking like that also risks the thought of pigeon-holing your child. When you don’t recognize the small advancements, you assume that all the past situations have remained the same. You remember things he “doesn’t do” and hold on to them forever. He can’t grow in my mind, if I don’t let him.

Socially, for example, Lucas never seemed to care much. I’d bring him bowling with friends or some other group thing and he’d just go through the motions. Roll the ball down the lane. Eat some french fries. Start crying after seven frames. Home. That was the social story in four pictures.

Even one on one, he was apathetic. We would laugh about how Christian, his best friend, would try to entice him to get up. Lucas, with a grumpy look on his face, would sort of plant himself on the floor firmly. My little curmudggeon. It felt like something we did just to do, but we did it anyway.

Why? For breakthrough moments like this past summer. That’s when I watched as Lucas, completely out of character up until that point, began chasing Christian around the pool. He was tapping him and laughing. I had never seen him do this with anyone besides his sister. Even then, she’d have to steal his iPad to get it going. It was a major step forward.

Watching him smile while flopping around that pool was one of the happiest moments you can imagine. I feel the same way every time I see him take the initiative to interact, rather than coexist. It took time, but he gets it. He’s maturing and growing into the person we push for him to be. I knew he’d never give up, so I didn’t either.

I read my son stories when I didn’t think he was listening and I talked to him endlessly when I wasn’t even sure he could hear. I gave him love and I brought him around people all so he could one day crave those things for himself. To see that happening brings joy to my heart. It was the whole point.

It was never about pretending he liked to get up on the dance floor. It was about exposing him to how much fun dancing could be.

There’s a big world out there and I’m Lucas’s tour guide. I want him to see all there is to do and all that he could be. It might take a little extra work to bring him to a party that he might seem apathetic about today, but it’s not about that party. It’s about the party a year from now and the year after that. The man he will be tomorrow is all about the boy I guide today.