When your child shows signs of delay, there are many things to worry about. I thought about the possible scenarios and diagnosises that could play out.

I also thought of all the people I was going to have to fight.

Yes. Fight. Throwdowns in the food court with starin’ Karens and dilweed dads who would dare to judge my wonderful son. I was in a constant dream world of fighting people who gawked at my boy. It was like Walter Mitty meets Steven Segal. Daydreams with spin kicks. That sort of thing.

Keep in mind, I can’t even do a spin kick. Still, I had a feeling I’d need to break one out at some point. After all, my son was starting to show some real behaviors that were sure to turn heads. Who wouldn’t look?

When he gets excited, he claps loudly and screams. When he gets upset, he slouches to the floor. There are several ways my kid can get your attention. I knew this and I also knew that if someone gives him a negative glance, I’m taking them to Spinkick City.

Know how many people took that trip? Zero. Zero trips to Spinkick City.

To say it surprised me would be an understatement. I was positive that by the time my son hit his 13^th birthday, I’d have been arrested for a battle at Friendly’s or two. Nope. None. No one stared.

Don’t get me wrong, people have commented to me during times of stress for Lucas, but never in a way that was confrontational. It has always been from a place of wonder and curiosity.

There was the time my non-verbal little guy had a mini meltdown as our plane was landing. I thought for sure that people would have rallied around my family with a pocket full of shells, but no.

Instead, those in the aisles around us stood up and began to ask about him. People mentioned their own family members with autism and soon we were a live studio audience on Oprah. I was genuinely surprised at their willingness to accept his cries and desire to learn more about who my son is.

Another time, a stranger tapped me on the shoulder while my son was melting down. The second I felt that tap, I knew I was going to have to start stretching my kickin’ leg.

Rather, I was left speechless as the man told me that he thought I was “a wonderful father”. It was the exact right words at the exact right time. It was the opposite of what I always feared would be the norm as a special needs dad.

These are just a few of the times when my son was given a warm reception from a world that I thought was going to eat him alive. For this, I thank Autism Awareness.

If not for the messaging and showcase of people like Lucas, his behaviors would be jarring for some. The acknowledgment of my boy and how his way of living differs from societal norms allows people to understand why he’s acting as he is.

The fact that I make sure his actions don’t infringe on others is what makes people comfortable to approach me. They watch me calm his meltdowns and remove him from places where quiet is an expectation. I never force Lucas on anyone or write off his behavior as “something autism does”. He doesn’t speak a word, but I have him say he’s sorry by tapping your arm if he does something wrong. I work to make him a part of the picture.

Once those questions start to flow, something becomes clear. For those asking things to me and Lucas, we’re the face of autism. In those moments, Autism Awareness begins with us.

All the commercials, TV shows, ribbons, and puzzles may make people aware that autism exists. But we, in many cases, are the first real-world examples for many who approach us. If we’re not, we’re definitely one of the first they felt comfortable enough to ask things to. The nature of their questions shows that.

During those times, they don’t ask about vaccines or breast feeding. They ask about communication and his handling of sensory issues. I’m always surprised by some questions, but never because I’m offended. It’s because so much of what Lucas does has become just a part of our world. I forget that the world isn’t as used to it as I am.

And that’s the most important thing here. If I was constantly looking for a confrontation with a stranger, like I was ten years ago, I would be too sensitive to field even the most basic of inquiries. I’d shut Lucas out from the world when all the world wants to do is know him.

Does that mean we need to engage every person who walks by or be open to a cross-examination while tying his shoes in the lobby of a crowded Target? Of course not. But it’s to put our best face forward and showing them that autism may have unique challenges, but it also makes a wonderful person..

That, to our family, is autism. If people aren’t aware of it, my goal is to make sure they are. Once they are, they can accept it. Only then, can they appreciate the ways in which it makes him such a great kid.