Kids are expensive. As the father to a teenage daughter, I know that even the most routine expenses add up. From head to toe, everything this girl wears is a small fortune.

That’s not really fair, though, because everything I wear is somewhat a small fortune too. Sure, we as parents try to spend less on ourselves, but a $3 pair of jeans that blows apart in the wind ends up costing more when you’re constantly buying replacements. Clothes, food, entertainment, and everything else costs money.

Make no mistake, we all insist on these expenses. It’s what kids and adults both do. When the time comes for new shoes, we put the world on hold and get them. Granted, I might buy them for myself less often, but once my current pair starts to fall apart, I start to make plans to upgrade to a newer model.

We all do this. We all want the latest and greatest that the world has to offer us, and even the most patient among us hit a breaking point that leads to, “No! I’m buying this. I’m doing it for me! I deserve it! I’ve waited long enough.” Everyone does this.

Well, almost everyone. For those who have read these posts before, you know what’s coming next.

My non-verbal son with autism, Lucas, doesn’t do this. He never does.

Some might think that as a non-verbal boy, he doesn’t ask for things because he doesn’t have the words. But since he uses his device, I know that if he really needed to communicate a want, he would find a way. In this case, lack of communication isn’t what’s stopping him.

It’s him. It’s the kind of person Lucas is, at his base, that stops him from demanding new and shiny things for himself. He’s just not like that.

I know that some might be confused since he’s the little Hamburglar of the house, running from plate to plate and gently touching his mouth as if to say, “May I eat your dinner?” That’s true. He does that.

However, he’ll never turn down a McDonald’s hamburger because he’d rather have the new expensive Big Mac variation. He won’t turn his nose up at mac and cheese because he wants caviar. Lucas is, well, good with whatever grub will do the trick.

By the same token, he will wear sneakers down to the nub, if you let him. Clothes are the same. He doesn’t care if a shirt has holes or pants have stains. He will put on anything I present and wear it until the end of time without a peep.

I love that about him. It’s another part of that autism appreciation I’ve written about. He doesn’t participate in social games. He doesn’t need to have a nicer hat than you. He doesn’t care if he has a hat at all. As I’ve said many times before, he asks for nothing and that’s why I want to give him everything.

In my house, Lucas has a pair of Jordan high tops. It’s kind of insane. They’re shiny, and he uses them to walk around the den, clapping and hopping over his excitement for a YouTube Kids video replaying on his iPad. They forget to advertise that in the commercials. They focus so much on how good they are for basketball. Few realize how well they work for the ol’ iPad jump-clap audience.

When I gave them to him, he didn’t care. To this day, he doesn’t look for them to go out. Lucas will willingly go out shoeless like Fred Flintstone or in these big red Elmo slipper socks I bought on clearance at Walgreens two years ago. These expensive shoes were an expense he didn’t want, and I didn’t need.

Yet, I did it anyway, and I’ve never regretted it.

We often do more for those who demand the most. I know I have. You reward the loudest squeak with a can of oil and end up resentful when there’s a lack of appreciation. It’s a vicious cycle.

With Lucas, I know from the start that there won’t be an open sign of appreciation. He just doesn’t do that. He’ll hug you to hug you, not to thank you. Although, as he’s gotten older, I’ve tried to teach him to at least give the person a pat on the shoulder, which, visually, can seem a bit condescending, but it works.

My thanks from Lucas is seeing him wearing the designer shirt I bought him or walking around with a new backpack and lunch box. I know that I did that for him. I also know that he’s never asked for it. I feel like I’m rewarding the best behavior rather than the loudest.

The bottom line is that if we get nice, new things, so does Lucas. He’s a member of our family, and that’s not something you need to ask for.