I always say that the things I write about my non-verbal son focus on positivity and that’s true. However, I think phrasing it that way implies that I am searching for the positives among the negatives.

In reality, my time with Lucas is almost always positive. Sure, we have challenges and rough moments, but even those can be lighthearted. We’ve dealt with some pretty difficult situations that, as I’m tending to them, will be broken up by his smiling face.

I’ve found myself vacuuming up spilled Cheerios, only to have my chin lifted so he can give me a giggly kiss. The fact that he doesn’t always register when he’s done something naughty can be a blessing and a curse, depending on who’s with him at the time.

Why do I get kisses and hugs during these tough times? It’s because I don’t treat them like they’re the end of the world. I save my ranting and raving for the moments when he could be in danger. I save my aggressive parenting for actions that he needs to learn to control, instead of mistakes that might leave me frustrated.

My son knows not to swing his arm towards me in anger. That’s because, during the few times he ever has, I’ve made it clear that it isn’t acceptable. His happy-go-lucky dad does this by not being happy-go-lucky in response. This deserves a stronger response than spilled cereal.

If I freaked out over everything, though, it wouldn’t register. Like raising any kid, you have to pick and choose your dire responses. If every bad thing your child does is “the worst thing they’ve ever done”, then nothing is.

Because of that, Lucas is on his best behavior when I’m around. It lets me know that I’m doing things right. Also, it’s only half the battle.

My son isn’t with me all day, every day. He has a full life with other people around him regularly. For some, to write about positivity when caring for him might require some deep searching. The experience one has with Lucas is as unique as Lucas himself.

I am aware of this. It’s why when a teacher or aide tells me something he may have done, I’ll never reply with, “No way. Never my son.”

That’s because – let’s be honest – probably my son.

One of my favorite stories to illustrate this point was when I found him forcing a school bus matron to literally carry him up the stairs Weekend-At-Bernie’s style. She had assumed on day one that he couldn’t walk the stairs by himself, so he just went with it.

That first time I watched her Heimlich Maneuvering him up the steps into the bus, I was in shock. When I called out, “Lucas! Walk!” and he immediately did it on his own, she was the one in shock.

Lucas is the version of Lucas everyone expects him to be. Treat him like he understands everything and he strives to understand everything. Treat him like he can do nothing and he’ll become a lump on the ground.

I don’t know what to do about any of that and, as he’s gotten older, I’ve learned to accept that he might be his best self in my company. From what I know of him, Lucas doesn’t process time or understand being reprimanded for something that didn’t immediately just happen. It makes teaching him that he needs to behave better at school nearly impossible once he’s returned home.

All I can do is listen to teachers and others when they voice these concerns and make sure I’m helping him know right from wrong when he’s here. Hopefully that understanding bleeds into his other situations.

It also requires that I never get defensive, unless someone becomes offensive when reporting about him to me. Yes, I don’t say “never my kid.” What I do say is:

I’m not seeing that at home.

That’s a true statement and all I can really say about it. I can’t explain to the teacher why he’s laying on the floor and refusing to move when they have to go to music. I’m not there. I just know he’s not laying on the floor here…at least not during that time frame.

And that’s my part. If he does it in my home, I stop him. Do that enough and he now knows, as he goes into the world, that it’s something he shouldn’t do. If he does, then it’s on whoever is around him to handle it in that moment.

Earlier, I mentioned that this was a blessing and curse. The curse seems evident from this hand-wringing post so far. That’s only part of the story, though.

I’m not the only one who expects the best from my boy. His current education team has been tremendous and they make him act maturely when I’m not there. I know this because he will routinely surprise me by doing something I never taught him. Whether he’s wiping his mouth with a napkin, clearing his plate, or getting dressed, I can always spot when he’s been working on skills I’m not around for.

So, yes, I write about the positivity in raising Lucas because it’s there, not because I need to hunt for it among the challenges. With each new thing he learns, each boundary he pushes, and each unexpected hug or kiss, I’m reminded that our world is what we make of it. And for Lucas, that world is one where he’s encouraged to be his best self.

For every person who treats him with patience and high expectations, for every teacher or aide who goes the extra mile, I’m endlessly grateful. They’re helping him build a foundation that he can carry with him even when I’m not there, showing him he can navigate this world as confidently as he does in my company. That, for me, is everything.