My 13-year-old son has no concept of money.

This may sound like something many parents say about their teenagers, who often don’t grasp the reality of earning and spending money. But my perspective is a bit different. When I say that my 13-year-old son has no concept of money, I mean it quite literally.

Lucas is 13, but he’s also non-verbal with autism. When I say he doesn’t understand money, I’m speaking in the realest sense. He doesn’t understand that I work or that someone pays me. There’s no knowledge of currency or what things cost. Offering funds in exchange for goods or services isn’t even something he knows exists.

In fact, in all his life, I’ve only seen my son interact with cash once. That was during COVID, when his remote-learning Occupational Therapist had me place pennies into Play-Doh so he could use his pincher fingers to retrieve them. But that was about dexterity, not economics.

Lucas simply doesn’t understand it and that innocence is one of his most endearing qualities. Much like how he never grew out of Sesame Street videos or Raffi songs, Lucas never grew out of the innocence young kids have when it comes to money.

He asks for nothing and requires very little to be happy. My son will never see a commercial and then feel miserable until that product arrives. He doesn’t care about those things. He cares about the things that truly matter to him.

Those things are food and drink. Like any kid, sustenance in our pantry is pretty important to him. And while that’s not really a luxury, it’s one of the few things he asks for. He’s so content with life that even this simple request stands out.

Lucas loves tablets. Over the years, he’s had plenty—from tiny Kindles to larger devices. And for him, they serve just one purpose: YouTube Kids. Even with this, his most expensive “taste,” it doesn’t take much to make him happy. The two tablets he rotates through now? They were free.

Yup. I found two outdated Kindles on Facebook Marketplace for about $20. When I wrote to the seller, I asked if they could play YouTube videos since some older versions have trouble with the app. I also explained that my son had autism and YouTube was the main reason he used them.

The response I got was the kind of kindness I had hoped the world would show when he was first diagnosed:

I’m not sure, but please take them both for free. We were going to throw them out anyway. If they don’t work, feel free to just get rid of them.

When I read their response, I was overwhelmed. It wasn’t about the money. It was about the kind gesture and expected hand extended by a stranger. That simple act meant the world to me.

For most parents with kids like mine, these tablets are pretty much useless outside their hands. Sure, they play YouTube and a few other apps, but you’re not turning them into business tools once your kid is done with them. They’re usually beat-up, outdated, and perfect for playing The Wiggles on repeat. Anything else is pointless. They’re just paperweights you can plug in.

Yet, those free tablets make my son happier than anything else on Earth. If I bought him a brand new one for $1,200, he’d be just as excited as he is with the free ones from Facebook. That’s who Lucas is. That’s the point I’m making.

The last thing my son needs in life is simple – us. He needs me and the people he loves in his life. There’s no price on what it costs to keep him happy with seeing me. He doesn’t need presents or cash rewards for hugs or smiles. He loves me for me and nothing else.

You can’t buy Lucas’s love. It’s not for sale. All you can do is treat him like the special person he is, and in return, he’ll love you back. He loves because he loves. That’s it. And it’s that attitude that makes me want to give him the world.

I want people who see us from afar to know this. They should remember what we have before they pity us or dwell on what they think I’m missing. No one sees the world like Lucas. Simply put, his pure, unique view is priceless.