If I want him to understand the world, I need to show him the world.

Lucas knows that Santa’s coming soon. Actually, I should phrase that differently. Lucas has been told that Santa is coming. As the stockings were hung and the ornaments dangled, I made sure that my son was aware that we were entering the festive season. 
 
Whether or not my son knows that Santa is coming is actually a different matter. Lucas is non-verbal with autism and while he’s able to understand certain things, the concept of Father Christmas doesn’t seem to be one of them…maybe.

I say this because abstract concepts like holidays aren’t exactly in his wheelhouse. My boy lives in the moment and can use his speech device for requests. If he wants Pirate Booty now, he’ll ask for it. He doesn’t, however, anticipate the need to buy more for later or whether or not it’s his birthday. At least, he hasn’t outwardly shown it. In fact, given what I know about him, I would say confidently that he doesn’t really understand the concept at the moment. 

“Confidently” is different than 100% though. The truth is, I don’t know if he does until he shows me. The day that he excitedly pushes the Santa button on his communication tablet is the day I know he gets it. Anything before that is a definite maybe.

There is, however, a time-lapse that can occur between the eureka moment of understanding and the pushing of his speech button. No matter what he has learned through the years, there was always a period between when he comprehended and when he showed me that he did. 

When he was little, I worried Lucas would never know anything. It sounds so depressingly harsh in hindsight, but for a parent to a child with substantial delays, it feels that way. While other kids were hitting countless milestones, my little guy was missing most. The discussions with doctors were about all the things he wasn’t doing. The questions from friends that start with “does he” were met with a mumble and a shrug. It was a tough time. 

All I knew was that I loved this little guy and, even if he never figured out the world, I would always be there for him. Still, I really wanted him to figure out the world…even a little bit. 

He wouldn’t look up when I would enter the room and a raised hand for a high-five was met with an indifferent stare. Outside of tickling, nothing really connected with him, but that didn’t change how he was treated in our home. 

Just like now, he was the most talked-to person in my world. If he was going to keep quiet, then he was going to be my sounding board. As I did with his sister years earlier, I spoke to him all the time and pointed out words or concepts. We’d drive down the block and I would call out all the things we saw. 

Store! Car! Side Street! Buffalo Wild Wings! Laundromat! 

When my daughter was little, she would repeat it all back to me in the most adorable ways you can imagine. 

Sthtore! Car! Thide threet! Bubbalawhyweeng! Laundriomat! 

My son was older than she was at that point and he didn’t repeat any of it back. That would be enough to stop some people from continuing. I didn’t. I kept going. We kept going. We’re still going. 

I’d read him bedtime stories and it would be a battle to keep him on my lap. Nothing was engaging about the pictures he saw or the tales I told. If he really didn’t “get it”, it must have felt like torture. 

So, I read him books in a way he would like. I spoke the words with a bouncing flow that coincided with bounces on my knee. At certain trigger-word points, I would tickle him.  

Quickly, storytime became one of his favorite times. To this day, we still read many of the same books. Even in the absence of the books, if I begin reciting it from memory, he stops and smiles while I go through the familar tales. I had read them so much that each word is etched in my brain like a walking children’s library. 

He gets it. He gets storytime. He gets that this is his father playing an interactive activity with him. He gets that it is special and there’s a very important reason why he does. 

I read him stories when I didn’t know if he cared. I spoke to him when I didn’t know if he could hear me. I loved him when I didn’t know if he understood the concept. 

And, because I did those things, today he does. These actions, which seem second nature to most parents, prove that reaching goals is about never giving up and always pushing forward. I’m his father forever and I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world. If he doesn’t comprehend something today, the only way to get him to comprehend it tomorrow is to keep him involved during the moments of doubt. 

That’s what I do with Santa, birthdays, family vacations, and current events. If I want him to understand the world, I need to show him the world. Just because it might take a long time, if at all, to get him to learn it doesn’t mean I should stop trying. That’s not what a parent does. 

Santa’s coming and my little man is on the nice list. We’re letting him know as the days tick by, whether he understands it yet or not. Because one day he will and these are the days that will make that possible. 

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