Baking cookies for your kids can be a rewarding experience. It makes everyone happy. At least, that’s the general hope. This everyday scenario sets the stage for a common challenge in our household – navigating Lucas’s response to temptation.

However, when I see my non-verbal son approaching them as they cool, I know things are about to take a turn. From across the room, we lock eyes and, as I’ve learned through the years, conventional methods of parental authority simply don’t work.

What do I mean? Well, what would you do if your kid walked up to scalding hot cookies on the stove? They eye you as if they’re about to nab one. What do you say? How do you handle it?

The first thought is to say, “No. They’re hot. Don’t eat those.” Most kids will whine and ask if they can have one later. A select few push on and you just know they’re on the verge of disobeying. You can see it in their eyes. I can see it in his.

In Lucas’s early years, words like ‘hot’ and ‘wait’ floated around him like abstract concepts, just out of reach of his understanding. Now, as he stands there, his gaze fixed with impatience, I see a growing awareness. But still, that impulsive spark – a characteristic so vivid in his personality – take priority over caution. It’s in these moments as his wants overpower his willpower, that his inner battle between curiosity and obedience plays out.

What comes next for most parents? It’s usually the ol’ countdown gimmick most moms and dads love. 1…2…3. The undefined punishment on the final count is usually enough to dissuade a kid. This approach doesn’t work with my son at all.

Why? The easy answer would be to think that he doesn’t understand counting because, well, I’m not sure if he does. It’s not a concept we hammer home and, to be honest, it doesn’t come up that much. So one would assume he just doesn’t know what they are.

This contrast in understanding is evident in our nightly routine, which reveals a different aspect of Lucas’s comprehension. Countdowns are a huge part of his bedtime. Plugged into his iPad while curled up in bed, he’ll look up as I enter the room. With five fingers up, I’ll start counting down. He knows that he has to give his device up at 1.

Some days he will hand it over nicely. Other times, he will throw a fit. It’s those times of resistance that I have to handle things differently. During those moments, I’ll let him keep his device a bit longer…but there’s one very important thing I have to make happen. It’s something that is vital to raising him.

I have him calm down, be still, and say to him, “Hey, stop. Look at me. Do you want the iPad? Yes? A little longer? Ask nicely.” From there, he’ll give me our hand gesture for iPad and gets it back. It shows him that tantrums don’t get him his way. If he doesn’t ask nicely, he doesn’t get it. It doesn’t matter how much he imitates an exorcism. He needs to see that calm gets his way. Aggression doesn’t.

Similarly, when faced with the tantalizing sight of baked goods, Lucas’s reactions require a unique approach. When Lucas stands by the freshly baked cookies, I often bypass the usual countdown, silently hoping he’ll resist the temptation. Usually, he does. But sometimes, his impulses win. With a swift move, he grabs a cookie and eagerly bites into it, defiantly ignoring the heat.

Regardless of the scalding temperature, he eats them with gusto, reminiscent of Pac-Man, even as he winces in obvious pain. This scenario might play out similarly with neurotypical children, where a parent would say, “See? It’s hot. Now you learned your lesson.” Typically, their child would cry and retreat.

But Lucas is different. He persists, undeterred by the pain, tears streaming down his face as he continues to eat. This isn’t about hunger. It’s a challenge of impulse control.

At bedtime, I’ve learned to manage his resistance with patience and understanding. Applying these lessons here, I know it’s crucial to prevent him from reinforcing this behavior. It’s not just about the immediate risk of eating hot cookies. It’s also about the long-term implications of learning that grabbing whatever he wants is acceptable.

So, when Lucas takes that first scorching bite, I have to intervene directly. How so? Get ready.

I physically reach into his mouth and remove the cookie.

Sounds gross, right? It is. I can’t even begin to tell you how gross. Sadly, as a parent, it’s not even in the top 50 grossest things that happen around here.

There are times when it’s too late, and he’s gobbled it up already. But typically, Lucas hasn’t fully bitten into it his pillaged snack yet. So, I gently remove it, discard it, and deal with his inevitable protests.

These moments, challenging as they are, are part of our journey together, teaching both of us important lessons about boundaries, understanding, and patience.

Thankfully, this doesn’t happen too often anymore. While there may be missteps here and there, things have gotten better as he’s gotten older. For that, I’m so grateful because for any parent to a non-verbal child, there’s always the initial fear that you’ll never be able to break through and reach a common understanding. You can’t help your kid if you can’t reach them. For a long time, I worried I wouldn’t be able to.

As I navigate these daily challenges, I’ve come to realize a deeper truth about our journey together. It’s not about bending him to fit the world’s expectations. It’s about understanding his world and adapting to it. Yes, there are moments that test my patience, where the rules of typical parenting don’t apply. But these moments are far outweighed by the joy and unique perspective he brings into our lives.

He’s not just my son with autism. He’s my son, full of life, laughter, and love, teaching me every day what it truly means to see the world through different eyes.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

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