I was in Lucas’s room, picking up clothes that were strewn about the floor. At 13 and non-verbal with autism, he’s the type of kid you’d expect to have clothes strewn around.

Except, he didn’t do it. I did. I always do.

Our mornings are usually pretty chill, but that doesn’t mean I handle everything gingerly. As we start the school day, my boy goes into his bath first thing while I search for an outfit to put on him. My constant search through his clothes causes the morning avalanche.

He was more than eager to return from the tub and reunite with his beloved iPad. As he did, I continued my cleanup. Shirts, shorts, and socks all were put away as I wondered why there was always so much chaos in my morning routine.

As I was doing this, kneeling upon the floor, I looked up and made eye contact with Lucas. He peered back at me with a funny stare. Then, out of nowhere, we both broke out in laughter.

What was so funny, you ask? I don’t know. Something.

I’m not saying this because I don’t know what was so funny. I do, but I can’t explain it. He got it too. For some reason, we both felt the humor in that moment and responded accordingly.

I can’t even tell you that “you had to be there” because, even if you were, you wouldn’t get it. There’s just something unspoken that made us both fall into hysterics.

Truthfully, these moments of shared laughter have been happening a lot more lately. In the last few months, Lucas will look at me with a smile or laugh that is different than others we have shared in his life. While I’m used to seeing him giggle over his iPad or stimming, it’s rare to have a laugh reserved for me without tickling or singing.

No. This interaction is more grown-up than any others he’s had. It’s like suddenly he “gets it.” I do too. What do we get? I don’t know. As I said, I can’t explain it.

Why is this such a monumental thing for me? It’s because things like this are a direct result of non-verbal communication through the years. This unspoken joke that we both understand is the culmination of so much trying. It’s the type of thing that I never would have imagined could ever be possible.

There was a time when he didn’t understand anything I was trying to put out there. Baby Lucas, in his smallest form, was adorable and mysterious. His life centered around food and entertainment. People, it seemed, were just strewn about like clothes on his floor. They served no purpose but to be put away until they were needed. It didn’t even matter if you were Greg Brady.

I’d walk into a room and he wouldn’t look up. Call his name and you’d be ignored. Take out a cupcake to eat and he’d try to grab it as if you were invisible. Little Lucas didn’t give off the impression that others factored into his life at all.

During those early days, my goal was to fix that. At the very least, I wanted him to appease us. Whether through a hand wave or hug, I wanted him to know that people were there as friends and equals. I didn’t want him to ignore them.

I spent years on that. I taught him “hello” and “love” without any verbal communication. He was included in his sister’s activities and family events. If there was a big group picture with neighborhood kids, he was in at least one shot – although I was usually in them too, holding him still in place.

Unless he was jumping for joy over his iPad, Lucas’s face when I’d first see him was neutral, at best. There was no chance of a big smile or acknowledgment that Dad was here. Even if we hadn’t seen each other in days, it was a muffled reaction. The smiles he gives me now were something I could only hope for, but didn’t foresee ever happening.

The point I’m making is that I never expected him to connect on a deeper level. I never would have dreamed that he and I would have non-verbal jokes and understanding based on nothing more than facial expressions.

Yet, here we are.

How did I teach him this? Well, I didn’t. As I said, I never dreamed this was possible. Getting Lucas to the point where he smiles or laughs without any stim other than visually seeing me wasn’t on any checklist. It seemed all but impossible.

The way it happened was by doing the little things. It was from teaching him to tap “thank you” when someone does something for him. It was by showing him love, patience, and understanding. As he grew, he learned that I was on his side and he could always trust me to know his wants and needs.

He knows that I understand him.

Sure, maybe I don’t know every reason he does everything. I’ve come into a room to find him under a laundry basket or chewing on one of those floor shirts, only to shake my head in confusion. But, when it comes to who he is and knowing what makes him happy, I’m an expert in Lucas.

He knows that. It’s why he smiles when he sees me and knows that we both find humor in random ridiculousness. All those tiny moments built us to this major understanding. It helped mold our relationship as he’s grown into a teenager.

Our autism journey isn’t a sprint or even a marathon. It’s a slow stroll that requires consistent starts and stops. The little things we do today all equal the big things later. In many cases, like this one, you don’t even know what you’re building as you’re building it.

It’s why we have the bond we have today. Our bond didn’t form overnight. But if you know, you know. And somehow, we both just did.