Why Trust Matters More Than Understanding With My Nonverbal Son

I don’t understand everything about how my nonverbal son sees the world, but that’s OK. After all, he doesn’t understand everything about how I see the world either.

The thing is, it’s not about understanding how or why we react to things as we do. It’s about understanding and trusting.

Lucas might not realize that washing the dishes are a fundamental part of not contracting some crazy diseases at dinner. Yet, he still brings his plate to the sink when I ask him to.

He doesn’t need some sort of pep-talk or explanation to do it. He just does. He knows that’s what his dad says and he listens because he trusts me.

Many parents tend to end it there. They see his act of obedience as the ultimate end goal, but it’s only half of what needs to be done.

After all, Lucas wouldn’t trust me to follow what I need, if I didn’t trust him to follow what he needs.

There was a moment this past week that perfectly illustrated this. It was one of those times where, in the moment, I was conscious that we had bridged a pretty big gap as he’s gotten older.

We have two ways to enter our home. We can either go through the garage or through the front door. I guess the windows an option too, but that’s weird. You don’t do that.

90% of the time, we go through the garage. I park my Jeep in there and the two of us squeeze along and enter through the kitchen. If he gets there first, he holds the door open for me. It’s incredibly sweet and something he learned on his own.

Now that you know that, you should also know that Lucas famously hates transitions, especially when he’s not ready for them. It came to light when he was younger. Going from one classroom to another or going from the car to an unknown bowling alley caused sitdown protests at best and full-scale meltdowns at worst. It took years to figure it out and learn how to comfort him in those moments.

They’ve cut down tremendously as he’s gotten older, but we still have struggles here and there. I offer patience and calm. He responds in kind…eventually.

This all came into focus last weekend, after a massive snowfall here on Long Island.

My house looked like Elsa threw up on it. There was ice everywhere and my front steps were coated in it. I hadn’t noticed until the morning Lucas’s mom was coming to pick him up for his time at her house.

By then, my little man was seated in the front window. He had his jacket by his side and his school bag – both signs that he was going to switch over for half the week. In the absence of words, we have routines and visual cues. He knows what time it is based on what his surrounds are. It’s never been an issue.

The front steps, however, were iced over. My first thought was, I’ll just have him go through the garage. That will be even easier.

Then a voice in my head said, “That won’t be easier. Picture it. Put yourself in his shoes.”

And I did.

I imagined being Lucas and being prepared to head out to meet his mother for his weekly trade-off. I thought about how every week for five years, he’s waited in the front window. Every week for five years, he’s walked through the front door when it was time to go there.

Then I thought about how any time we’ve ever gone through the garage, it’s been to get in my car and go somewhere. Taking him this route would be a complete disconnect from what he would be expecting. It would be the exact type of transition that he would hate.

And that’s when I realized that I don’t need to understand why Lucas sees things as he does in order to understand what those things are.

Truth be told, I don’t get it. I can’t tell you why it causes so much anxiety for him. It just does.

To be honest, I can’t even tell you for sure if this disconnected trade-off through the garage would have caused him to get upset. He’s surprised me before. But that wasn’t important. If there was even a small chance that it might, I wanted to help him avoid that.

As I stood outside with boiling water, salt, and a broom, trying to make the steps safe, I couldn’t help but be proud of how far the two of us have come.

Three years ago, I might have stood there wringing my hands and shrugging. I could see that version of me pleading with him to get up as he flops to the garage floor. I’d have no idea why this was happening and, in many ways, it would feel like it “came out of nowhere.”

Now I know where it would come from, if it came at all. I protect Lucas from these things the same way another parent might protect his nightmare-prone kid from scary movies.

It’s about being present and noticing reactions, even when those reactions seem too random. They’re not. I’m learning that none of them are.

As he gets older, he’s bringing his plate to the sink without being asked more often. I applaud him for that. The least I can do is return the favor. I might not see the world the way he does, but I can meet him where he’s standing.

If this story resonated with you, I talk more about what changed after my son realized I was really listening on this week’s episode of
Hi Pod! I’m Dad.