Most people, upon hearing that I have a non-verbal 13-year-old son with autism, make an assumption that sounds right but is actually very wrong. It’s so wrong, in fact, that the reality is actually the opposite.

They assume that the most difficult thing about raising Lucas is that I, as a special needs parent, need to do everything for him. That’s simply not correct.

The hardest part of raising Lucas is not doing everything for him.

And, I know that makes no sense. Please, let me explain.

There are many things that my boy can’t do on his own. From making his own food to washing his own hair, Lucas struggles with many life skills that other kids master much younger. Long after other moms and dads stop helping their children get dressed, I’m still holding out pants, looking up, and saying, “Leg. Good. Now other leg. Good job.” It’s still a daily thing.

Honestly, though, that’s not hard. Holding out a shirt and shoving it over my kid’s noggin takes little-to-no effort on my part. For the last 13 years, we’ve been putting it on together. He knows what to do. I do too. It’s quick. It’s easy. Arm, arm, head, get in the car, let’s go.

Autism, Appetite, and Learning To Adapt

What’s not easy is letting him do it himself. It’s stepping back and allowing my son to put on his own shirt, knowing he will turn it and maneuver it many times to find the right hole for his head. It’s about not rushing to do it myself. when he takes much longer on his own for an attempt that will most likely end with me needing to adjust it anyway.

Yet, doing it himself is the most important step in this puzzle. Sure, I can help him with everything he needs, but the only way he’ll learn is to do it himself – no matter how long it takes, how many attempts are made, and how I’ll most likely need to do it for him in the end regardless.

I’m reminded of this every morning when I leave his socks and shoes on the sitting room couch. This recent change to his morning routine removes me from the equation. I simply say, “socks and shoes” and he knows.

I have to admit, it’s rather adorable to watch his process. Lucas picks up a sock and begins turning it and spinning it around to find the hole. I watch him examine it on each turn like a jeweler overserving a diamond. My instincts are to come over and save the day, as Dad always does. But, I know he’ll never learn that way.

I know this because there are times that I have done this and, the second I take the sock from his hand, he goes into autopilot mode. There’s no helping or watching on his part. He just sticks his foot out like I’m Joe Pesci with a shine box – looking for a freebie. Little Billy Batts over here learns nothing from this “help”.

So, I let him do it on his own. I wait as he rotates his sock around before sliding it onto his foot. In nearly every case, the heel isn’t positioned right and I have to correct it. However, I always give him a rousing ovation.

Yay, Lucas. Good job. Socks! Nice!

From there, I hand him a shoe, tap the correct leg ,and tell him to put it on. He does.

Again, it takes much longer to do it this way than to simply get him ready myself as we did in the old days. It is not, however, the old days. It’s the new days. My little man is a teenager now. He needs to learn how to manage socks, shoes, and life on his own, even if the learning process eats up extra time.

My Non-Verbal Son is 13

Without that forced sense of independence, Lucas will never know how to take care of his own needs. Sure, even though we do it this way, he might never learn certain skills. But, that “might” turns into “definitely” if I do it all for him.

Of course, it’s a slow drip to the finish line and like many parents in my position, I sometimes worry that I’m wasting my time. After all, I have no guarantees that he’s understanding any of this. Without words, he never says, “Hey, Dad. I get this!”

No. Instead, it’s on me to notice his increasing skill level on my own. Even in moments of doubt, I have to push forward and trust he’s absorbing these lessons. Sometimes verification comes when you least expect it.

One of those verifications came to me last week when it was time to tuck Lucas into bed. I came up the stairs and walked in. Seated on the bed, swiping on his iPad, he smiled as I stepped over the threshold. That’s when I saw it.

He was wearing one shoe.

Yes. Sitting in his room, killing time, and playing with his toys, Lucas had randomly slipped on one of his sneakers. I guess he saw it there, figured he knew how to do it, and so he did.

And at that moment, I knew that all that time spent waiting for him was worth it. I had that wink from the universe, that yes, it might take time, but it’s working. He understands what’s happening, remembers the steps, and he’s pushing forward to adulthood.

There’s no wasted time when teaching my son how to care for himself. Every minute spent giving Lucas independence is a minute spent reaching our ultimate goal. It might be a slow road and the light at the end might seem dim at times, but it’s there. We walk closer towards it every day.

So I’ll keep stepping back, even when it’s hard. I’ll keep watching him fumble with socks, wrestle with shirts, and take the long way to figure things out. Because now I know—he is figuring it out. And every time he surprises me with what he can do, I’m reminded that independence isn’t built overnight. It’s built one sock, one shoe, one small but mighty victory at a time.