LISTEN TO THE FREE PREVIEW BELOW ON SPOTIFY:

https://open.spotify.com/show/2yYt3YbpX9WvmQD3d7bXgq

The early days of my son’s autism journey were the most frightening, not because of what I was told, but because of what I imagined. I thought “non-verbal” meant “silent,” and that my life would be filled with quiet and solitude.

Wrong on both counts. My 14-year-old is loud, engaged, and determined to pull me into his joy. He screeches with excitement over his iPad, taps me for approval, and does the same to his sister Olivia just to hear her say, “Hi, Lucas.” Each tap is his way of saying, “Do you see this? Isn’t it awesome?”

It’s one of many things I never expected, right alongside the hugs, the kisses, and the private jokes we share.

Oh…yeah. Private jokes. We have private jokes.

So, how do I have private jokes with my non-verbal son?

Um, easily?

Like so much of my interactions with Lucas, these things came about organically. In fact, it feels easier than it does with verbal people.

Much of the earliest ones involve these magical YouTube videos. I memorized so much of Raffi’s 1984 concert that I can recite more than just the songs. I know every ad-lib Raffi does and every call out from the crowd. At one point, during the “Rock in my Shoe” song, a guy in the crowd laughs like Santa Claus. His big booming “ho-ho-ho” was something I imitated immediately.

To this day, I sing this song to Lucas on a regular basis. No matter where he is, if it comes on his iPad, he comes to get me. It’s our “jam,” as they say. Few things pull such a natural smile from his face as this one.

Of course, sometimes he doesn’t want to hear me sing. Getting ready in the morning is one of those times. For him, it’s about getting dressed and going.

So when I begin to sing to him during his time, he is rarely on board. Today, he will wag his finger with a “no, no, no.” When he was younger, he had a different approach.

He’d hit himself in the head.

I’m not kidding. It was awful and brought the Daddy concert to a quick finish.

No, Lucas. No, buddy. No hitting. I’ll stop. You OK? Don’t do that.

Of course, in my morning haze, I’d forget and try singing again every week or so and he’d do the same thing. Then, one morning, I switched it up.

As we were getting his clothes together, I started to sing and Lucas readied himself for his unhappy response. So, I beat him to it.

Without warning and mid-sentence, I slapped myself on the top of the head with a loud smack. Then I made a silly face and fell to the ground like a cartoon character.

And he loved it. We both laughed and, even at his young age, he knew I was joking around. He’d take my hand and put it on my head to go again. That’s when I knew he “got” it.

This approach has been the basis for many of our inside jokes. Lucas is used to people, unsure of his motivations, letting him do whatever he wants when things get difficult. All he needs to do is whine or flail and most adults will step back, worried he might melt down.

I don’t. I live on the edge.

My best take on this was during his early runner-days. All little Lucas wanted to do was run. Most people would sit him down, struggle to keep him in place, and eventually give up when he became too much to handle.

Me? Not so much. I’d tug of war with his arm like most others, and then, just as he was ready to spring away, I’d pretend I was letting him go.

OK, buddy. OK. Go. Fine. Go.

As soon as he stood up, I’d pull him back.

Nope! Ha ha.

He’d get angry. I’d act like it was too tough for me to handle him and again, let him go.

OK. Fine. Relax. You can go.

And he’d stand…and I’d pull him back.

I’d do this until he seemed like he was about to lose it. Just harmless frustration. We were right on the edge of a full-scale issue. Then I’d let him up.

And do it again.

No….no, no, no!

That’s when he’d break into hysterics. I knew he understood the humor. It was a matter of, “Everyone is afraid of getting me upset. Except this guy. He’s just messing with me.” It set the stage for our relationship at a young age. Dad isn’t afraid of poking the bear in order to lighten the mood.

These things come easy to us. When you have a kid who communicates non-verbally, a lot of your interactions feel like you’re dealing with a friend during class or a business meeting. Lucas gets it when I look over or jab him like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. He understands when, while he’s getting his shirt on and before his head pops out, I ask, “Where’s Lucas? Lucas?” It’s all hardwired into him, as it is with most of us.

Perhaps my favorite is the “Goodbye” game. Standing face to face, I’ll say to him:

Goodbye, Lucas. I have to go. See you later.

From there, I will turn around to leave, take one step, and pivot back around. I’ll lunge in and tickle him and he will laugh like crazy. This goes on for…well, ever. He’s never made me stop.

The whole point is that if you have a bond with your child, nothing can ever keep you apart. No matter what challenges, struggles, or disabilities might stand in your way, love conquers all. If you know someone, you know them. You find a way to make it work.

We’ve made it work, and we’ll keep doing it – one laugh at a time.