You’re going to have to bear with me, as I’m on a bit of a parental high. Lucas and I just returned from a birthday party and his behavior was excellent.

No issues. No grabbing. No dropping to the floor. My non-verbal little man was so well-behaved that it kind of blew me away. At one point, he sat by himself at a big table of food and kids, while quietly eating his chicken nuggets. For a boy famous for his hamburglering, it was unreal.

Why was it like this? The short answer is that he’s growing up and, with everyone working on his life skills, moments like these are hopefully on their way to becoming the norm. For a child with autism, in the way that it affects Lucas, days like these may not always be the case. But when they are, they are the product of hard work by my son and the people around him.

If I can credit one thing for the shift in his approach to uncomfortable events, it would be our pre-party preparation. While his world may seem closed off from outside events due to communication barriers, it still remains a priority to ensure that he understands what’s ahead. Without that understanding of what an activity before him is, he has to trust the person leading to that activity. That’s where building a strong bond comes into play.

As we ramped up to the day, I told him about this party constantly. Whatever we were doing, I’d be sure to mention it.

Almost time for that party. Mini golf. We’re going to have fun. You ready? Mini golf?

To someone who doesn’t know my son, the pictured scene involves him nodding and silently saying, “Ah, yes. Miniature golf. I know it well, Papa.”

No. Lucas doesn’t listen to things that way. When explaining this to him, he would often be listening to his iPad, clapping, or walking away halfway through. Unless he’s told to remain still or the words are enunciated, he doesn’t take anything said to him with any sense of urgency. Even then, he often doesn’t really understand the words that come with it.

Don’t get me wrong. He might understand “party”. I know he kind of gets “birthday”, although I never really could tell how much of what a birthday is that he gets. Either way, I tell him. I tell him all the time.

When he was little and haircuts were a primal battle between me, him, and a dying buzzer, I started warning him ahead of time. Of course, that was easier. I would walk up to him and say.

Hey. Tonight, pal…

Then I would make a fist with my thumb extended and run it along his head.

Bzzzzzz…

He would look at me, shocked, with an expression of “how dare you” and touch his head to see if there was hair there. Then, as he continued his disturbed glare, I’d reiterate.

Buckle up, junior. Haircut. Tonight. Bzzzz!

Believe it or not, this helped tremendously. Today, Lucas has no issues with the times I cut his hair. While I also chalk that up to maturity and exposure. I see those verbal warnings as a major helping point.

All I ever do is talk to this kid. I never know how much lands and how much doesn’t. Either way, I say it. That way, even if he does understand “party” and doesn’t show it, I get the point across beforehand.

As I mentioned, he might not get it. In that case, it takes a little leap of faith and trust in me, as his dad. It happened when I opened the door to the car at the mini golf place. My son met me with his familiar defensive stance.

Eyes fixed on me, he leaned his body all the way into the car with his iPad under his torso. I unbuckled his belt and he planted his legs into the floor mat. It was a refusal that has plagued many a doctor’s visit, school day, and trip to the supermarket. For years, it was either a long waiting game or a wrestling match to get him through the door.

This time was different. I backed up and said, “Come on, man. Party. Remember? Come on. You can bring the iPad.”

And he did. He got out and we went in.

Once inside, he didn’t want to give up his device at first, but that was okay. He also insisted on holding my hand and, in one of his cutest nervous responses, incessantly kissed me on the cheek. We walked the arcade and took pictures until I finally told him he had to put his beloved iPad away. He made a slight whining sound and that was it. Into the bag it went and back to group we went.

Within minutes, the hand-holding stopped, the kisses subsided, and my little man joined his friends like I always hoped he would. It was everything we had been preparing for.

I can’t begin to tell you how proud I was of him. From horror stories of snatched coffees and stolen pizza to meltdowns over…well, I don’t even remember, my little fella has had a long road to get here. But the way he acted on this Sunday in February was how I always hoped he would.

That hope wasn’t just for me to be free of worry or the need to constantly hover around him (which I kind of did anyway). It was a hope for him. I want Lucas to have fun with his friends. I want him to create positive memories.

Without the appropriate receptive language, I could never explain to him why he should enjoy parties. I couldn’t even show him why when the parties involved small disasters that ruined his experience. All I could do was wait for him to show the maturity I had instilled in him and believe that his dad wouldn’t lead him into a terrible place or take away his favorite device forever.

Everything I do, I do for my children. Knowing he knows that he can trust me to lead him to his happiest moments is the most important thing in my world. I’m starting to realize that he does and I couldn’t be happier for it.

If that’s not a reason to have a party, nothing is.