When I mention that my son is non-verbal, most assume communication is the hardest part. But it’s not. Communicating is manageable. Gestures, devices, and intuition bridge that gap. The real challenge? Teaching what’s appropriate and what’s not.

For Lucas, that’s always been the most important focus. Ask any special needs parent to a young child and they will tell you the same thing. Being out in public, at least early on, is a game of swivel-head where you’re checking out who’s checking you out and deciding if it’s time for a street brawl.

Those brawls were more imaginary than I ever imagined. By and large, people have been kind and respectful. I’ve chalked it up to autism awareness in today’s society, but it’s also a testament to the work we’ve done and continue to do.

Some things need to be understood by my little man and I tried hard to make sure he gets those things. Clothes need to remain on in public. Strangers aren’t to be touched or bothered. Food on other plates isn’t there for grabbing. In a setting where quiet is expected, he has to keep his voice down. Those are all non-negotiables.

That means that when Lucas starts to strip off a shirt at Chili’s, I immediately yanked it down and reiterated “no, no, no.” The same happened when he would go up to someone or try to grab their meal. There were arm-tap apologies and reimbursed Starbucks drinks. We’ve spent many ceremonies and shows sitting in a hallway out front as I got him in order. It’s all been part of our lives.

Because of that, I’m happy to say that some of the most inappropriate behaviors have tapered off through the years. Today, at 13, he doesn’t do any of those things with me…at least not all the time.

There are, however, more behaviors than those that used to cause me anxiety. Even in a loud store, his echoing claps would lead to worry. Mood swings sometimes made him roll around in his chair at the restaurants or randomly scream out with laughter. He sometimes would insist on laying on my lap or giving me kisses on the cheek incessantly. As a whole, when the silliness strikes, my kid goes with it.

During his younger years, I figured that was fine. Sure, I still looked around for people to gawk, worried it attract attention. That, however, wasn’t my biggest fear. My biggest fear was about what would happen when he wasn’t in his younger years anymore. My fear was about what would happen when he was older.

That older boy I thought about then is the boy he is now. As a teenager, just inches shy of my height and pounds beyond my weight, Little Lucas isn’t little anymore. Silly time for a little kid with special needs looks very different than silly time for a near-adult. What would people think? What would people say? I couldn’t fathom it.

Well, here we are. The day has come and today, my giant boy still displays some of these rambunctious actions when we’re out. Want to know what people think of it?

Don’t know. Don’t care. Seriously.

I can say this with complete honesty because, as I pointed out earlier, we’ve already worked out the inappropriate behaviors that directly affect others. The things he could do that would interrupt the peace of a stranger or disturb their day are all gone.

We spent years keeping him from impacting people with impulsive actions. Now, for the most part, the only “inappropriate” things he might do are things that affect him and his family. So, if anyone has an issue, it doesn’t matter. Turn your head around and eat your soup, lady. My son is giggling and hugging me. It’s none of your beeswax.

Actually, let me take that back, lady. You’re allowed to look. It’s a free country and, as long as your facial expression or words aren’t confrontational, you’re free to glance over. I fully accept that this might be something new for you and, for that, I’m understanding. I see things I’m not used to all the time in public. We’re all different.

There is, though, a difference between being curious and being rude. Curiosity is cool. Rudeness is not. If you don’t know the difference, you’ll find out pretty quickly.

I’m able to have this peace of mind because I spent those early years working on the major things. If my giant son was attacking people for their pizza, I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. But he’s not.

He’s not because I didn’t let him do that when he was small enough to get away with it. Does it sound like that was an easy lesson to teach? No. Do you know why? Because most people would look at this adorable preschooler, with a handful of their lunch, and tell me, “Oh, it’s OK. Let him have it.”

I’d explain that it’s not and how “when he’s older, he can’t do that.” They’d usually make a noise that implied understanding, mixed with guilt, as I tore the food from his hand through tears. I was the bad guy then so we could be the good guys now.

And we are. Lucas is the good guy everywhere we go. He doesn’t bother others. So if they’re gawking at him, I know it’s not his fault. It’s theirs. Finish your soup, lady.

Those early years were a daily challenge, but trust me, they were worth it. Today, I’m proud of the kind, respectful, and loving person Lucas is becoming. Those lessons we taught him when he was small shaped the world he navigates now and the world he’ll grow into tomorrow.

So, if you’re in the thick of it with your little one, keep going. The day you have a near-man (or woman) at your table, you’ll be thankful you laid that foundation when they were still young enough to mold. The world will be thankful for it too.