One of the best pieces of advice I ever received about raising a special needs child is to keep track of the things they do today. That way, the progress they’ve made six months from now doesn’t go unnoticed, while you wait for the major milestones you’re obsessing about.

The obsession for parents like me can be intense. When Lucas was a baby, every request centered around speech. Every list of things I wanted the teachers in his life to achieve started and ended with “verbal language.”

Verbal language, however, is a major thing. It’s a giant step taken over time and one that, if you’re only waiting for it to happen, can consume you. Spending all your time hoping for that one major thing can cloud the smaller things that are happening along the way.

Lucas’s verbal language still hasn’t come, although he’s still working on those words and making steps towards speaking “hi”. Still, at 13 years old, there should be more to his growth than simply that.

And there is.

My Life with a Teenager and a Non-Verbal Child with Autism

The older my guy gets, the more I see the small changes that have come with him. I’m not sure if it is a natural observation on my part or due to that advice I was given so many years ago. Either way, Lucas’s small steps of achievement have been adding up to a greater bigger picture in his old age.

At this point, you’re probably guessing at these achievements and I promise you that they’re not what you think they are. I’m not talking about other checklist items like putting on clothes or using utensils to eat. Don’t get me wrong. He’s made amazing leaps in those areas too. However, that’s not what I’m getting at.

I’m talking about things like having him ride up front in the car with me. For a lot of his little life, that would have been a risky idea. After all, my son is roly-poly little ball of energy who thinks nothing of throwing himself around in a fit of restlessness or grabbing my hand to rub his head. It’s led to some impromptu wrestling matches that would be catastrophic if they were to happen while doing 60 down the Long Island Expressway.

I knew that the first time I let him ride shotgun. That’s why we only did it through a parking lot. When that went well, we did it down the block. Then we did it to places in the neighborhood. Today, we do it whenever it’s needed.

Why Reflecting on My Non-Verbal Son’s Autism Journey Gives Me Hope

Yesterday, while picking his sister up from driver’s ed, Lucas was stoically looking at the window when, I can only guess, the sensory alarm started going off in his head. As I was driving, he slowly lifted his hand and put it on my mine. I knew he wanted me to rub his head.

Without taking my eyes off the road or hand off the wheel, I simply said:

No, buddy. No hand. I’m driving.

And, just as calmly as he had put his hand on mine, he took it off, only letting out a small, annoyed grunt while continuing to look out the window.

It’s not the type of thing you put on a checklist or include in the family Christmas letter:

“Great news! Lucas doesn’t grab my hand off the steering wheel anymore! Happy Holidays!”

But for us, these are the moments that matter. These are the quiet victories, the kind that most people don’t see or understand, but that shape the bigger picture of his progress. Those who get it, get it.

Even the times when he is being naughty can be small accomplishments. A literal hour ago, I was downstairs spacing out on my phone when I heard footsteps upstairs. I figured my daughter was making herself some food as I heard cabinets closing. When I heard the strong stomps coming down the stairs to me, I knew it wasn’t Olivia.

It was Lucas, holding his tablet and chewing through the big smile on his face. It was a familiar scene from years gone by. My little Hamburgler always finds a way to feed his face.

Rethinking Discipline with My Non-Verbal Son

The difference in this post-chow entrance from others in the past was that he wasn’t covered in anything. There were no giant cream cheese smears across his shirt or chocolate splattered on his face. My boy was clean as a whistle as he finished noshing whatever was in his mouth.

With a mix of resignation and curiosity, I went upstairs, bracing for the usual chaos of days gone by like cool whip on the counters, cookie crumbs everywhere. Memories of his early, messy raids lingered as I opened the door.

What I found was an open fridge and an empty zip-lock bag left on the table. He had eaten a small piece of gouda cheese and left the bag. That’s it. He left no epic destruction of the room in the process.

All of the past Tasmanian Devil-style food runs my boy made in his early years always ended with a massive cleanup. This wasn’t that. This was a kid, taking food and leaving some things behind, but nothing on the level that he once did.

Again, how do you phrase that for the Christmas letter?

It’s a proud dad thing that, like much of my relationship with Lucas, is hard to put into words that everyone might understand. Still, it’s amazing to me and progress that I never dreamt I would see or even thought I would look for as he got older.

Watching Lucas grow into a teenager isn’t what I imagined before he was born…or even after. It’s a journey unique on every level, filled with moments of quiet pride that mean just as much as any Honor Society Award. Thanks to that advice I received so many years ago, I’ve learned to stop waiting for milestones and start celebrating progress, no matter how small.

So, consider this my Christmas letter. In the last year, Lucas has made strides I never expected, and I’m grateful to have noticed every step along the way.