Why I’m Fiercely Protective of My Non-Verbal Son with Autism

When it’s time for Lucas to go to sleep, I have a way of making his bedtime less of a conflict. As a non-verbal boy on the autism spectrum, Lucas responds better when we find a routine for how we do things. He doesn’t need it to be the same every time, but it definitely helps.

At bedtime, Lucas plays on his iPad in bed until it’s time to transition to calming music and dimmed lights. I give him a five-second countdown to hand it over.

Depending on his exhaustion, this handoff can be easy or difficult. If he gets upset, I let him keep it for a few more minutes, ensuring he understands I’ll be back for it. This involves hand motions and familiar phrases. I find that doing this shows him that I’m willing to be fair, and when I return, no matter how soon after, he always lets it go in a pleasant manner. It works for us.

During that extra time, Lucas’s joy shines through. He swipes away on his iPad with the same enthusiasm as before. He laughs, claps, and taps me to watch his favorite YouTube videos. It’s adorable. This is a beautiful facet of his autism, which I call “autism appreciation.”

Imagine if Lucas was different, not on the spectrum or verbal. How would this time be different? He’d likely be annoyed and resentful for trying to take the device away, but Lucas doesn’t do that. Earlier actions are always erased for him, as he lives in the moment in a way no one else can comprehend.

This is my boy, illuminated by autism. He focuses on what he loves, living in the moment in a way I envy. But while this outlook brings him happiness, it also leaves him vulnerable. Many nefarious actions fly under Lucas’s radar. He doesn’t understand teasing or bullying.

Take his favorite toy and he’ll chase you, but once he gets it back, he’s over any anger he had in those moments. Call him a name and he won’t respond. Say something mean about him and he won’t hold it against you. In many cases, he doesn’t know what any of that means.

But I do. I know what all of it means.

It’s his pure approach to others that makes my son so special when put into social situations. It’s why teachers and aides have told me for years how sweet Lucas is. There are so many positives to a personality like his, and in a perfect world, he’d be put on a pedestal by those who meet him. No one would ever try to hurt him or disrespect him. Everyone would acknowledge that a person like him deserves to be treated with love and kindness, as that’s how he treats them.

We know, though, that we don’t live in a perfect world. People can be cruel and selfish. Those like my son, who pose no threat of fighting back, become the easiest targets for the worst around them. Keep in mind, we have experienced very little of that in Lucas’s life, but he’s only 13. His cute baby face has started to sprout into adulthood and his circle only grows as he does. There are many chances for people to take advantage of his good nature.

In my dadly role, that’s always been my goal. While I found myself preparing for battles that never happened, I am conscious of the fact that those battles might still occur. I know that, as a father, I have to protect my children. That’s kind of the whole job description. If your child is neurotypical and can understand the mean-spirited motivations of others, it’s easier to navigate what you need to do. In the case of a boy like Lucas, it involves vigilance and oversight. It means I have to keep a high profile in his life.

That’s what I do. I’ll hover around this kid for as long as I can, ready to pounce on anyone who shows him less respect than I would want for myself. Some might call it a Papa Bear mentality or helicopter parenting. To me, it’s simple: “Treat my son with respect, or it’s Mortal Kombat time.”

It’s a side that I don’t talk about often, but a side that all parents to children like mine have. Respect my boy. Say hello to him. Welcome him to your party. Treat him with dignity and courtesy. It shouldn’t have to be said, but sometimes it does. My son doesn’t speak, so I’m saying it.

Show even the most vulnerable among us the respect you would want yourself. You never know who’s watching. Growl.