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My daughter was seated at the kitchen table with us last week when I pulled out the Uno cards. I wanted her to see what her brother could do.

Lucas and I don’t play Uno in the traditional sense. Instead, I lay out four piles (one for each color) and hand him the cards one by one to place on the correct stack.

He’s non-verbal with autism, so the rules of this game were never directly discussed. It was a discovery during the COVID quarantine, suggested by a remote learning teacher. When he was able to do it, I was kind of blown away.

An iPad is almost always in his hand, so taking it away to “play cards,” as we call it, can sometimes be met with an annoyed reaction. When Lucas isn’t feeling it, he’ll blow off any suggestion. Because of that, I go into every activity with a bit of caution.

What made this recent game different was that Lucas had an audience. It was the first time we were going to do some color stacking with his sister there to see.

My little guy was on fire. He was tossing cards down like it was his job and genuinely paying attention to each one. I love seeing him scan the decks and get that look of concentration on his face. Sometimes, he’ll stick his tongue out like Michael Jordan and it’s seriously adorable.

I could see Olivia’s eyes widen. This wasn’t the norm in our house, and it’s rare that Lucas showcases this kind of understanding. We’re so used to giving him his own downtime after school that scenes like this aren’t as common as…well, maybe they should be. That’s on me. It’s why the Uno cards are becoming a mainstay in our home.

Although I still had more cards in my hand, I figured he’d done enough. Most times, he’s straining to finish so he can return to his iPad. So, I gave him an out.

OK, good job, buddy. We’re good. Olivia is impressed.

That’s when he did something I didn’t see coming.

Lucas looked at my hand holding the cards and crooked his neck around, examining how I still had some left. Then, he raised his little right hand and wagged his finger in a deliberate “no, no, no” motion.

He’s good with “no,” but it’s usually in response to things like “Do you need the bathroom?” or “Ready for bed?” I didn’t expect to see it now. I responded with no gestures or devices. I simply asked:

Yeah? You want to keep going? Do more?

That’s when he took his two fists and bumped them together – his signal for “more.” I was stunned. So was Olivia.

I went with it. I handed him each remaining card, one by one, and let him close out the deck. It was a moment of fatherly pride I wasn’t ready for and an interaction that will live in my memory for a long time.

From there, he was showered with applause and cheers before running off with his iPad. I had just finally settled into accepting that he could do this card game. I wasn’t ready for him to be so communicative in his desire to finish it.

And I’m pretty sure it’s because his sister was watching.

Most people reading this will nod and say, “Of course it is. That’s his sister. He wanted her to see what he can do.” Those people are right. But they might not realize that Lucas isn’t usually like that.

I mean, he is in a way. There are times when Lucas acts good around her and I’ll say, “See? Good job. You’re showing Olivia what a big kid you are.”

But usually, it’s just a guess. The same could be said for how he is around me or anyone. We assume he’s trying to impress us or on good behavior for that reason. It’s usually just that – an assumption.

This was the first time I was sure.

Don’t get me wrong, he’d want to continue no matter what. Lucas has been proud of playing with these cards. And while he’d rather play on his device, he can get through the deck with no problem.

But not letting us finish early? That was for his sister to see.

I try not to write too often about the relationship my daughter has with her brother. That’s because it’s not my story to tell. It’s hers. Maybe one day she’ll decide to tell it. I can’t do that and I shouldn’t. She knows that the option is there.

But what I can do is tell you what my goal as a father has always been. All I’ve ever wanted is for them to love one another.

People outside our home try to make it about other things. They talk about what her responsibilities might be one day or how stressful the long-term plans are when you have one child with severe autism. They assume she probably worries about it or needs to “accept” him. I know because people have asked her.

But my girl is a lot like me. This “autism appreciation” I’ve talked about? Olivia gets it. It’s just something she feels in her soul, as it is with mine.

I once asked her if she had ever had trouble accepting her brother. Her response shows me that I’ve done something right. She looked at me like I was crazy and said:

“I always accepted him. That’s him. He’s my brother.”

When the day comes that she might need to step in and help make decisions about his life, I know she will. Not because I drill it into her or make her feel responsible. I know it because she loves him. She wouldn’t let him be alone or in danger. There’s no eye-rolling when she helps him do something he needs. She just knows, deep in her heart, as I do, that if their roles were reversed, that’s what he’d do for her.

That’s all that matters.

And in all of this, he’s learned to see her the way I want him to. He knows she has his back. He comes to her with the same kinds of requests he brings to me. Out of everyone in his life, his sister is the one he taps for a hello the most. She’s the one he wants to impress. The one he wants to be around.

I know my boy. Even without saying a word, it’s obvious.

Like I said, maybe one day Olivia will share her story. Until then, I can rest easy knowing the bond they have is one that transcends words, life skills, and responsibilities. It’s built on love.

And when you know someone really loves you, you never have to worry whether they’ll stand by you when things get tough.