On Saturday, my daughter and I took Lucas to see Sesame Street Live. Deep in Brooklyn and in a beautiful theater, this was his 13th birthday present from March. She and I had been waiting for this event.

It only made sense. Sesame is Lucas’s favorite television show, by far. Sure, there are other concerts and singers he likes, but the Wiggles don’t hold a Grover-scented candle to the iconic program from the Children’s Television Workshop. If you put on the particular episodes he enjoys, my little man goes wild for it.

Yes, sir. Lucas’s favorite show is Sesame Street.

And yet, while at this live show, I had an epiphany.

Lucas doesn’t really like Sesame Street.

It hit me like a bag of Big Bird’s birdseed as I was sitting there trying to get him to look up at the ongoing performance. For the first time, I didn’t just assume he likes it because he likes the videos on his iPad. I watched to see how he responded to the actual characters on stage.

Before the day even came, I knew this outing could be a possible failure. My non-verbal little guy doesn’t deal with future events. Telling him that we’re going somewhere next week or month doesn’t register and the language behind explaining the concept of Sesame Street Live to him isn’t there yet. There was no way to prepare him for what was to come.

When people asked if he was excited, I’d shrug. I also fully admitted that it could be a disaster before we even left. He could easily hate it. Yet, we did it anyway because we love him, he’s a member of our family, and he goes to all our nonsense.

When we got there, Lucas had no interest immediately. However, he might not have realized where we were as the Sesame Street theme was subtle before the big curtain rose. They brought out some girl named Jamie and a dude named Chuck to lead us in Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes. My daughter leaned over and asked me, “Who the hell are these people? We came for Elmo.”

Her brother felt the same way. Aside from the occasional lights that shined down, Lucas didn’t look up for anything other than the overpriced and undersized popcorn I bought him. It wasn’t until Elmo and Abby were introduced that he finally paid attention.

The attention was swift and fleeting. He sat tall in his chair and looked at the two things on stage. Then he went back to eating popcorn and getting fidgety. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the event. It was that he didn’t care. It was no different than sitting him through a random high school musical with his sister in it.

Even knowing all this, I still hadn’t realized this grand new way of seeing Lucas until the characters started to sing a song from one of the videos he watched. The moment the melody began, he stopped short and looked off into the distance. I watched as Lucas absorbed the familiar tune that he had stimmed out to on his tablet for years.

When they were done, so was he. Any other song from a non-favorite video was pointless and, by 40 minutes in, we were heading to the car. I always say we need six pictures to show we had fun and then we could leave. We hit that quota.

For years, I had always remarked that Lucas needs to watch his specific Sesame Street episodes. Music Magic, Ernie’s Dance Video, Grover Does It All,…they all have a place in his heart. Put on a random episode, though, and you might as well be putting on CNN. He’s out immediately.

That’s when it hit me. He doesn’t like this show. Maybe he did when he was little. Today, though, he watches it differently.

He doesn’t care about the characters or the set. The plot is incidental and the main idea doesn’t factor in. My son likes specific instances from specific episodes. He watches it for the music, lighting, or whatever else is catching his eye.

The best way to describe it is that it’s as if someone is a fan of cinema. They love special production techniques and lighting secrets. There’s a particular scene or part of a movie that they absolutely adore. The rest of the film, though, they don’t care for. They don’t want shirts bearing the movie’s name, toys depicting the characters, or live performances. They just like that one scene for personal reasons.

That’s Lucas and Sesame Street. Elmo only makes him happy when he’s doing a familiar thing. It’s not about the character, but more about the thing he’s doing. Seeing this, I feel like the mysterious figure delivering the twist at the end of a film.

My child, it’s not about Elmo. It never was. The answer was before you this whole time…

This reality is further bolstered by the fact that Lucas doesn’t get excited over Elmo dolls or t-shirts. He doesn’t get giddy over Elmo’s mere presence or that of any characters really.

Through the years, we’ve purchased endless Wiggles figures and Sesame dolls, only to watch them fall to the wayside. If the world is built on a cult of personality, my son isn’t a member. He’s here for the music. He’s here for his own enjoyment.

Raffi, another obsession, is the same thing. Lucas loves two of the singer’s three concerts. Put one of those on and he will clap and jump for joy. Put on the one where he’s wearing a bowtie and my son will literally leave the room. How dare you?

While we stayed at the Live show for nearly an hour, Lucas was only captivated by about 10 minutes of it. It became clear that, as difficult as gift-getting is with this kid, it might be getting a little more difficult. Sesame Street Live was fun for a moment, but it’s not something that Lucas would choose to do. So we’re going to stop making him for a while.

I never stop learning about this kid and realizing realities that were right there the whole time. He’s one of the most interesting and unique people I’ve ever met. Days like this only further prove that. Sorry, Elmo.