The other night, as I snuggled with my incredibly smart 9-year-old son, Max, at bedtime, he started sharing his experiences from recess. It was a typical day at school, except for a kid named Leo from another fifth-grade class who had been throwing gravel at him and making threats. Although a few classmates rallied to support Max, he was visibly unsettled. As he spoke, he mentioned that Leo had some serious issues and couldn’t stop “sabotaging” his friendships, and then he surprised me by saying he thought Leo might be autistic.
I listened closely, trying to manage my frustration with playground politics, which can really drive me up the wall. Max then expressed relief that Leo was in a different class, saying that his own class couldn’t handle having two kids with autism. Curious, I asked Max who in his class had autism. He looked at me and simply said, “Well, me, Mom. Haven’t you noticed?”
Honestly, I had noticed. I’ve spent years wrestling with this truth, often burying myself in internal discussions instead of fully recognizing who my son is. It was eye-opening to hear him articulate it so clearly. Max went on to explain that he’d begun to suspect he might be autistic two years ago after watching a documentary about how Legos can help autistic kids form friendships. He wondered if that was why he felt he needed Legos at school.
He had done his homework—watching documentaries and reading up on symptoms, and he felt he met many “diagnostic criteria, but not all of it.” Max told me, “I get sarcasm, but irony? Not so much. I can’t stand the texture of fruit, I’m clumsy, and I struggle with sports. Making friends is tough, but I often know what people are thinking. The cafeteria smells awful, and eye contact? Forget it. I’m obsessed with cars and worry a lot.”
Finally, I admitted to him, “Yes, I have noticed.” When he asked why I hadn’t said anything before, I realized I had been shielding him from this reality, which reflected more on my own fears than his. He asked, “Why?” and it struck me that he was genuinely curious, showcasing his neurodiversity. All those years of holding back from facing this truth were really me trying to protect myself.
Surprisingly, Max seemed excited about the idea of being on the spectrum, sharing that some of his heroes, like Elon Musk and Thomas Jefferson, are also autistic. He even mentioned Mozart and Steve Jobs—people I admire myself!
Parenting Surprises
Parenting is always full of surprises. Max walked perfectly when he turned 18 months, just as I was about to call for help with early intervention. Just when I thought he might never make a friend, he came home raving about a new best buddy. And when I worried he would struggle with empathy, I witnessed him having a kind and wise conversation with his little sister. Even his introversion was overshadowed by his planning a 5K to raise money for immigrant families.
In the end, my son has shown me that avoiding painful truths is my struggle, while confronting them is his strength. I thought facing the reality of autism would be too much for him, but it was my own neurotypical mindset that made me second-guess everything. When we truly listen to our children, they can provide us with the answers we need.
Resources for Family Planning
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Summary
This heartfelt reflection on parenting reveals how a mother’s internal struggles with her son’s neurodiversity can shift when he openly identifies with autism. The boy’s self-awareness sparks a new understanding for both of them, showcasing the importance of honest communication in their relationship.
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