He has to know how to respect others, to the best of his ability, and interact in a way that can ensure he will never be wanting for his basic needs.
He collapses into me. Like a melodramatic actor from a 1950s stage play, he will fall into my arms while weeping over being denied a loaf of bread he tried to steal from the kitchen.
That guilt was because I was still learning the difference between hoping and needing. I was hoping my son would speak. As I’ve come to realize though, I didn’t need it.
Sensory issues or stimulation have nothing to do with it. This was my kid wanting what he wanted and whining until he got it.
Those who treat him like he’s capable of anything will get the best him he can be.
Whether someone can respond in the traditional sense or not, it doesn’t affect the vital role that the people who love them play in their lives.
It’s one of the main reasons we should stand in awe of special education teachers (and all teachers in general).
The hardest thing about my non-verbal son’s first day of school was sending him alone on that bus.
I know there are things that he doesn’t get about my world. There are things about his world that I don’t get. The things we do both understand, though, are special.