My nonverbal son and I have many one-way conversations. Car rides, in particular, involve me spewing life to him.

When I say it is a one-sided conversation, people probably assume that I’m mean in terms of spoken word. They’ll assure me that he’s listening to me and.. I know. Lucas can process a lot of language, understand it, and respond in ways outside of verbal communication.

This isn’t one of those times. This is me being tuned-out by my 13-year-old son.

I can’t blame him for it. The things I talk to him about in the car have nothing to do with a kid his age, on the spectrum or off. Finances, TV Shows, and things I notice on the side of the road are all part of my babble.

See that shoe? Who threw that there? Maybe you did. You always lose your shoes. Did I tell you about that time…?

Lucas never tells me to shut up. He just doesn’t. No gestures. No mouth covering. Nothing. He just lets me talk, much as I let him screech or clap along with his iPad videos. We’re cool like that.

in our family

It’s this constant stream of acknowledgment that allows him and me to have a strong relationship. I always know Lucas is there and I always treat him like the main character.

That sounds funny, but it’s important for a kid like mine. Lucas can (and often does) get lost in the background. The world moves around him and, if you let him fade from the spotlight, he will.

READ MORE: My Non-Verbal Son is 13, Not “Mentally 6” – Here’s Why That Matters

I’ll see it myself on these car rides. Some days, trapped in my head, I’ll drive along while he silently sits in the backseat. I’ll forget he’s even there as he looks out the window. That’s when I start talking about my day.

This has been something we’ve done ever since he was born. As an infant, my boy was a captive audience. As he grew, he stayed that way. We never hit a time where he doesn’t want to hear it. He likes that I talk to him.

I know this because it’s not limited to car rides or big conversations. We could spend the day together, with him playing on his device and me on the Xbox, and easily go without noticing each other.

I don’t want that. So, I’ll poke him.

Hey.

He’ll ignore me. Swiping on his iPad.

Excuse me. Hello. Hello. Hello.

Each hello has a tap on his shoulder. He’ll finish out whatever swipe he’s doing and then look up at me.

(Big Smile) Hi!

At that point, I’ll try to get him to say “hi” back, ask him who his dad loves (he pats his chest), or just tickle him. The idea is to remind him that I’m here and he’s part of the world I’m in. Does that make sense?

When he was first diagnosed and we learned he might not speak, I’d tell him:

The squeakiest wheel gets the grease, buddy. And you’re the least squeaky wheel I know.

It’s true. My son will leave you alone if you leave him alone. If you make him a main character in your life, though, he will act like one.

That’s what we’ve built. I remind Lucas that I’m here and while everyone else is talking to each other about weather or politics, I talk to him. Sometimes I even talk to him about weather and politics. Whether he understands them all or not doesn’t matter. It’s not about the words I’m saying. It’s about the fact that I’m saying anything at all. It’s about keeping him in the loop.

lucas kiss

With that, comes a deeper understanding of non-verbal communication too. I have always used animated expressions or silly faces with him. The goal was to get a laugh but, most times, that had to come with a tickle or something.

It wasn’t until the last year or so that I can simply make a funny face at him and get a smile. Having a non-verbal person you connect to in your life is like having a friend across the room during a work meeting. They can’t hear you, but they understand that the face you’re making means something. Lucas is that friend to me and every gesture or expression is another notch in our communication.

What makes this so amazing is how I never would have believed this a decade ago. When he was little, my son seemed ready to just have his own worldview. I was worried that I would never have a relationship with him and everything I read, saw, or heard made that fear feel real. Mixing that with what I was seeing, I never would have dreamed we could find a connection.

Today, at 13, Lucas does so much more than I ever thought he could. He might not speak or be able to truly care for himself yet, but we have a relationship. That’s the only part that’s important. He fits perfectly into our lives just as he is.

Showing him that he’s important to our family tells him that he’s a part of us. That’s not something you have to say or even understand. It’s something you have to feel. This is his home and his family.

When you’re home with family, you’re always a main character.