When writing about my non-verbal son Lucas, I often reflect on how much remains the same—and yet how much has changed.

Chalk it up to autism awareness, acceptance, or appreciation, but most times I look back on days gone by, the biggest changes were mine. From understanding non-verbal communication to seeing the best in my boy, a lot has dealt with my own journey as his father.

For Lucas, so much has been consistent in terms of his actions. The things he did when he was younger typically stayed the same. It isn’t until I look back at pictures that I see the physical changes that have come about since he had his 13^th birthday.

lucas little big

And, with that, everything else changes…even the things that stayed the same.

Sounds cryptic? Let me give one example and then the rest will become crystal clear. Since my boy was able to walk around, he has always found a way to ask for food. Before there were pictures on a board or communication tablets, Lucas had a tour-guide approach to his requests.

My tiny non-verbal seven-year-old would approach me, place his hand in mine, and lead me to the kitchen. Then, as we came to the cabinet or fridge, he’d open the door and gesture towards it as if to say, “Food, please, father. I’m ever so hungry.”

Adorable.

Now, imagine it today, with a boy who is mere inches below my height and heavier than me. His shirts are a size up from mine and he’s a full-blown dude at this point. This is the man who comes up to me in the kitchen today.

When he does, Lucas grabs my hand like Andre the Giant at a meet-and-greet and marches me into the kitchen to get his grub in the classic way he always has. As we come to the cabinet or fridge, he opens the door and gestures towards it as if to say, “FEED ME, OLD MAN! SATIATE MY HUNGER! ROAR!”

It’s, uh, taken a bit of a turn.

Parenting a Growing Giant Handling My Non-Verbal Son’s Physical Growth

If I try to stop him on the way in, like we used to, he posts his feet firmly on the ground and refuses to move…just like we used to. The only difference now is that I once was able to spin that seven-year-old around and carry him away. The 13-year-old who lives here now plants himself to the ground like an immovable object.

Luckily, I’m the irresistible force in my home. As his father, I can still power this kid when I need to. In times of danger or the sign that we might be stuck in place for a while, I can physically get him to move through a variety of ways. None of them are violent, but they all involve showing him that Dad’s still got it.

I might poke his sides with my fingers, in a tickling motion. He jumps, takes a step, and plants again. So I poke again. We do this for each step, as he giggles in an annoyed way and eventually gives up.

There’s leverage too. When he’s on the floor, refusing to get up, I hook one arm under mine and stand him up amateur wrestling style. He looks at me with an impressed expression. I always feel proud when he gives me that look.

At the end of the day, Lucas knows that Dad can push back when pushing back is needed. That said…I don’t want to push back.

It’s for that reason that I try not to do it. He’s getting older and the last thing I want him to learn is that he has no reason to listen to someone who can’t maneuver him around like a sack of potatoes. It’s not about pushing your way through life until someone comes along who can push harder. It’s about not pushing at all.

happy car

The bigger he gets, the more I’m trying to drive that point home. Standing tall, I will simply point over his shoulder and say, “No. No food. You just ate. We can have more later. Now go play.”

He stares. I stare. It’s a battle of wills, but he knows. He knows that when I’m serious, I’m serious. That’s the end result of all the leverage and side-pokes. It’s a layered response. Not only am I showing him that he can’t push his way around, even if someone isn’t pushing him back, but I’m demonstrating something deeper. I’m showing him that even though I can physically make him go back to his room or leave the kitchen, I don’t always do that. Just because I can push him around doesn’t mean I do. It’s a demonstration of respect for my son that I’m hoping he understands and does to others in his life.

This kid’s just going to keep getting bigger as I eventually start shrinking or whatever is on the horizon for my age bracket. Teaching him about how to interact with others is going to be a lifelong process, but I need to work smarter, not harder.

I’m proud of how big he’s gotten. Although I have to admit. I miss the days when I could just spin him back out of the kitchen.