When you have a non-verbal child with autism, there are certain realities you need to accept. The things that “all kids” do don’t necessarily line up with the kid you have.

Lucas didn’t care much for traditional toys in the traditional ways. Shows he loved sold merchandise that he hated. There was a Wiggles guitar he didn’t want to touch or a Yo Gabba Gabba dance mat that collected dust, among others. My son didn’t have time for many toys that other kids gobbled up.

You could say the same thing about activities. Whether it was mini-golf, amusement parks, or days at the beach, my boy wanted nothing more than to do his own thing. I’ve spent many early days at the park chasing Lucas through dangerous bushes and shrubs encircling the swings. While other kids were happily swinging away, he was trying to spy the cars driving past the gate and clapping for each one as they did.

Come on, buddy. You’re going to get hurt.

He didn’t care if he got hurt. Lucas was fixated on what he wanted to do, and he did it. I’d run behind as he’d sprint into another family’s round through the windmill or cut up my own feet while chasing him beneath the docks at Jones Beach. Plainly said, my son didn’t do activities in the same way you’d expect.

It was frustrating for me, as his father. I wanted Lucas to have fun. Bringing him to places deemed appropriate for his age, only to see him disregard the entertainment they offered, made me feel like a failure.

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That was before he was diagnosed, though. Once the professionals told us it was autism and I accepted that he might never verbally speak, things were supposed to change. After all, I now had a name to put with his world view. This was autism.

I thought having a diagnosis would mean I could finally figure out what worked for Lucas and what would make him happy. If typical activities didn’t appeal to him, surely the autism-friendly options would. I saw it as a roadmap, but what I didn’t realize was that no roadmap could lead me to a “perfect” experience. I was still chasing an idea of what Lucas’s happiness should look like, instead of letting him show me what it truly was.

Still, I had to learn that lesson for myself. Gone were the toy guitars and dance mats. In were the sensory-friendly toys that all kids on the spectrum supposedly love.

I got him the fidget spinners and ball drop toys that Amazon swore were ideal for children with sensory needs. Pictures of grinning kids wrapped in stretchy bodysuits and covered in weighted blankets all promised that my son would gravitate to these presents. The smiles that the children in the sensory-friendly sections of catalogs had all told me that I had finally found the things that my son would love.

He didn’t.

Soon, his floor was cluttered with new autism-friendly items. Aside from the light-up toys and tablets, there were few other sure-fire hits for his collection.

The same could be said for activities. On a particularly disheartening afternoon, I took Lucas to a sensory play gym. If anything was going to appeal to a child with sensory needs, it was that, right?

After all, my son had sensory issues. He chews on his sleeves and clapping for each one as they did.. What better place to bring him than a play gym specifically built for kids on the spectrum?

Almost immediately, I knew things were going to be difficult. After paying the fee and taking off his shoes, I tried to coax Lucas into the main play area. It was the same old thing in a different way.

Much like I had done with all the neurotypical playtime accessories he didn’t want, I was now steering him towards the sensory-friendly ones that he didn’t want. I was pushing for the things that “every kid” likes.

The lobby of this sensory gym had a giant storefront window. Outside that window was a busy street, and Lucas, just as he did at the typical park, was more intrigued with clapping as each car sped by. I couldn’t get him to take more than four steps in before he came running back to the window again.

Autism Awareness Month Son Van Gogh

Just to clarify – I was trying to pull my son away from happily enjoying himself so he could have fun…like other kids with sensory needs are supposed to. Does this make sense? I had gone from pushing Lucas to do what all the neurotypical kids do to pushing him to do what all the neurodivergent kids do.

Unlike many special needs parenting epiphanies that come about years later, this was something I noticed at that moment. I stopped trying to make him follow a play plan and decided to tap out for the afternoon. This wasn’t the place for Lucas. Even the owner, who had been watching us from behind the counter, gave us our free-play money back. It was a kind gesture when I desperately needed it most.

Today, Lucas is 13 and that story happened years ago. We never went back, and I never regretted it. I learned an important lesson that day. My son is unique. Lucas doesn’t fit into any neat category, and that’s what makes him so special. His preferences and joys are entirely his own, and they don’t align with anyone’s expectations—neurotypical or otherwise.

That’s a major reason why I love him so much and why those who know him feel the same way. You can’t wedge my kid into a category or catalog. He likes the things he likes and shuns what he doesn’t. He offers no apologies for who he is.

Lucas’s passions, like his fascination with watching cars or his love of light-up toys, have their own kind of magic. He finds joy in places most people overlook, and his unwavering focus is a reminder to me to appreciate the small, beautiful things in life.

The person he is is wonderful. At the end of the day, I’m glad that my son doesn’t fit into the same neat little boxes that toy stores and activity guides say he should.

All parents want a child who is kind, caring, and stays true to themselves. I’m lucky enough to say that’s exactly what I have. My boy isn’t like anyone else you’ve ever met – on or off the spectrum. I wouldn’t want him any other way.