The little annoyances are often balanced out by his sweet reactions.

So much of my writing is devoted to the great things my non-verbal son does. Lucas is one of the sweetest kids ever and so many aspects of being his dad bring me happiness.�

I�ve also talked about some of the rougher moments. There are posts about handling meltdowns and late-night issues. No kid is all one thing or all another. He has substantial challenges today and tomorrow that I will help him through. They may not all be easy roads, but we will travel them together. We always have. We�re a team. �

I�ve even written about the underappreciated sweet things he does too. From holding the door when we come home to his evolving emotional empathy, that subject has been mentioned.�

There is another common thread among all parents, that hasn�t really been touched on too much here, though. It�s the little things my kid does that can drive me crazy.�

When my daughter was small, I talked about some of the insanity I endured. Neurotypical, as she is, many of these situations resonated with parents who have a similar child. I have a feeling that Lucas�s little moments will resonate with those who have a boy like him at home too.�

For instance, one thing I never anticipated was how every single place we drive to takes us five extra minutes to get out of the car. �Why? Well, several reasons contribute to this delay.

Many times he stretches and acts too exhausted to move from his seat. He�ll simply lean back and stare at me as if to say, �Come and get me, old man.� So I do.

I feel like it impresses him to witness my strength. Not sure how my 12-year-old adopted a prison-yard mentality. But he did. You have to earn his respect old-school style through brute force.�

That doesn�t happen every time though. He only does that sometimes. There�s only one thing he does every time.�

He gets barefoot. Whether we�re driving five miles or five days, he sets those piggies free.�

Why? Well, my son hates wearing shoes. No matter where we go or how short the ride, by the time we arrive, he�s Jimmy �Superfly� Snuka, with his little toes wagging around mere inches above the jagged pavement. We�re already late for the doctor and he�s doing the hippie dance of joy in my backseat.�

Lucas, of course, is happy as a clam. As I struggle to find his socks under the passenger seat, he�s laughing and kissing the top of my head. He doesn�t even have the courtesy to let me be mad at him for five seconds because he�s immediately adorable� and forgiven.�

That�s what makes today�s topic a bit of a paradox. The little annoyances he does are often balanced out by his sweet reaction to them. I try to explain how autism affects his personality in some truly unique ways. This is pretty much the central reason for all of that.�

Even when he understands the gravity of a situation, he�s ultimately unbothered by it. The best example of this is how I usually make him put his iPad down when putting on shoes or getting into a tricky pair of pants. While he complies with giving it up, it can be an issue.�

In his younger years, taking the tablet away was like a scene from a Lifetime drama about a mother handing over her baby. Lucas would dramatically fall to the ground and let out a long whine. Of course, he was much younger so it was cuter then. I hoped he would grow out of it before he was my size.�

For the most part, he has. Now, he relinquishes it right away with only minor objections and allows me to help him get dressed. But, as I am, he�s peering over my shoulder and trying to see the screen, which is paused, but has a still picture of Abby Cadabby on it. His body moves as he�s asked, but his sight is firmly fixed on YouTube Kids.

Come on, little man. Lift your leg. Your toes are stuck. You�re killing me. Come on.�

By now, he�s hopping on one foot and has no idea that I�m literally saving his life at the moment. Balancing the sole of my son�s foot in one hand, I�m keeping his massive frame from falling to the floor. If only he�d lift his leg more.�

And then he lifts it.�

No. Not his leg, his arm. I see it from the corner of my eye. He is hovering over me. Slowly, with his finger extended, he tries to quietly unpause the iPad over my shoulder.�

Dude, are you kidding me?�

I make annoyed eye contact with him and toss the device to the other side of his bed. He watches it sail away and suddenly, he�s a dressing expert. His pants and shoes are on in Guinness World Record time. He gives a short jump and victory clap before doing a four-foot dash to the pillow side of his bed, where his iPad is waiting. Abby is unpaused before the final shoelace bow falls to the ground.�

He loves iPads and he loves eating. My boy�s a bruiserweight who can go munch for munch with the best of �em. As he�s grown, I�ve balanced out his diet in my home better, and thankfully, he�s learned self-control when he�s here. There�s no more stealing coffees or diving on tables at Panera. In most cases, he can refrain from hamburglering.�

What he can�t do is eat without making an epic mess. It�s like magic. Last week, I gave him a Little Debbie Christmas Cake. You know the ones with white frosting and sprinkles? The tiny dessert was the size of my palm. I came back two minutes later and he looked like the Crow.�

Seriously, there was more on his face than the cake was made with. He multiplied it 40 fold like a bible story. I wish I had been videotaping him. �

So, I wiped his face with a wet wipe. �

And as I did, he opened his mouth and kept trying to lick it.

I swear. That�s another thing he does. For some reason, I always forget until I�m wiping his face with one. It makes me laugh harder than anything else on this list and he knows it. He laughs too and, at this point, I think he might do it mostly to get that reaction from me.�

At the end of the day, there�s only one Lucas and I�m so glad we have him. He�s still a kid, though. Kids can make us smile and make us scream. The trick is to embrace the abundance of happy times and then, find happiness in frustrating moments.�

And also finding his freakin� sock stuffed into the cushions of my Jeep.�

�

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