How My Son on the Autism Spectrum Is Using His Voice in His Own Way


My son Leo clutches his hands tightly beneath his chest, his gaze alternating between me and the television screen, his expression seems steadfast and intent on communicating.

His brain knows what he wants, yet he struggles to put words together to tell me.

“What do you want, baby?” I ask. “What movie?”

I prepare to run through his list of favorites, hoping I’ll stumble upon the film he’s seeking. I hope upon hearing the title he wants, he will try to imitate the sound using his sweet voice, or that I’ll be able to gauge from Leo’s visual cues which movie he wants to see.

Boy standing in living room in front of TV with the movie "Finding Dory" on

Before I can utter a sound, my boy, with fierce determination blurts out, “Nemo, fish, duck, Dory!”

“You want Dory?” I ask, my heart swelling with pride and a deep sense of affirmation that connections are being made.

While he might not know the title of his new favorite film, “Finding Dory,” Leo problem-solved. He used language he knows connected to the film to express what he wants.

He communicated.

“Nemo, fish, duck, Dory,” is currently Leo’s new go-to phrase for requesting the movie he adores — as is “Woody fly in the sky,” for “Toy Story,” and “Monster,” for “Monster’s Inc.” And just recently, we figured out that his requests for “House” was a request for the Pixar film, “Up.”

My boy, who has been described in many recent evaluations as primarily nonverbal, continues to prove what he is capable of.

By fostering, supporting and encouraging the things that bring him joy, his passions continue to be an avenue for progress and growth.

And just like Dory, Leo will do these things in his own time, and in his own unique and special way.

Follow this journey at Life With Leo.

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When My Son Asked, 'Mom, Do I Have a Disability?'


I knew the question would come, in one form or another. I thought I was prepared. I’d read countless articles, met with therapists, had late night discussions with my husband. My search history is filled with variations of the question “How do I tell my child he has autism?” This type of preparation is not unique to parents of kids with special needs, although the topics may be. Eventually, as a responsible parent, you know you will have to have uncomfortable conversations with your kids. Unfortunately, mumbling awkwardly doesn’t satisfy when your child asks you an important, deep philosophical question in the drive-through line or as you’re drifting off to sleep. You don’t know exactly when the moment will come but you know it’s inevitable, so you prepare.

My moment came on a family vacation just over a year after my oldest son’s autism spectrum diagnosis. I had prepared for it. But I wasn’t prepared for it.

When I became a parent I knew I would face the big questions. Yet it’s not the sex talk that’s been on my mind (although that will come). For my husband the question hasn’t been if we tell our son he’s autistic, but when and how. These questions are individualized and unique to the family situation; I don’t intend for this post to be a piece of advice. I’m no expert; I’m just a mom navigating without a road map.

I remember my husband and I watching the show Parenthood when our oldest was a baby. One of the characters, a young boy named Max, is diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. Max’s well-meaning parents do not tell him about his diagnosis, although they do seek the help of a behavior aide. Eventually, Max overhears a heated conversation between his dad and uncle during which his diagnosis is revealed. Max is angry, confused, and devastated while his parents run major damage control. My husband and I rather sanctimoniously agreed that we “would never” keep something like that from our child. Turns out revealing this information isn’t so straightforward.

When our son was diagnosed, we felt it was important not to hide the diagnosis from him, as we didn’t ever want to make him feel like it was some kind of shameful secret. Again, our personal situation. The other edge of the sword? Our son also lives with anxiety disorder NOS. He is very sensitive and he cares what people think. He is self-conscious and perseverates. How would we tell him about his autism without him over-identifying with it? How would we keep him from feeling like something was “wrong” with him, while at the same time circumventing the trap of minimizing the very real difficulties he faces as a result of his autism?

The consensus of my research indicated that when a child begins asking questions or making observations about a topic, you know they are ready for an explanation. Obviously, the depth of the explanation will be adjusted based on the child’s age and developmental level. The rationale is that once a child is observant enough to begin asking questions, giving them an explanation is far better than leaving them to ruminate (and believe me, our child ruminates!) and come up with their own version of reality.

I first discovered this information when my research history contained variations of the question: “How to talk to kids about a parent’s depression?” Interestingly, when this question came up, (“Mommy why do you take that medicine every day? Why do you have to go to the doctor so often? Are you sick?”) I was surprised how readily my son accepted my explanation. While I thought was being discreet, he noticed the pill bottles on the counter and the frequent doctor appointments and worried I was sick. While it was not a conversation I ever wanted to have, I explained to him that yes, I am sick, but my sickness is in my brain so you can’t see it. But it’s OK, because my medicine helps me and I go to the doctor so often because he helps make sure my medicine is making me better. I think he said something like, “Oh, OK. Can I go play Minecraft now?”

So, when the day came, I figured I’d be prepared. It turns out some things you just can’t prepare for. Life is not an exam to be studied for. If only.

We were perusing the science museum in San Diego. My husband was with our youngest playing Legos while I trailed A and my niece through the genetics display. I was thinking about something important like where we were going to go for dinner when I noticed my son staring intently at a chart about genetic disorders. He was uncharacteristically quiet, and then he turned to me and said, “Mom, do I have a disability?”

I deflected. I asked him what he thought and why he asked that. That night during tuck in when most of our heart-to-heart discussions occur, I readdressed his question. I asked him what he’d meant earlier when he asked if he had a disability. He replied, “Well, I was just wondering, because you know how I’m different and stuff?”

Ah, yes. Different. He knows he’s different. He struggles with things other kids don’t. He notices things other kids don’t. Subtle social norms are often lost on him. And he knows it.

As badly as I wanted to appease him with some “different is not less” “be who you are” “we are all unique” platitudes, I knew his question was deeper than that. He’s deeper that that. The time had come. Except all preparation went out the window. There’s no script for this type of thing; there just isn’t. I took a deep breath and told him he had something called autism spectrum disorder. I asked if he knew what that was and he shook his head.

Now, the hard part. A label is one thing, but autism (like any condition) is more than a collection of traits or a generalized description. I told him it meant in some ways his brain works differently than a lot of other people. It means he has very special gifts like being able to remember things and being able to learn so many facts about things he is interested in. I told him it also means certain things can be harder for him, like doing something new, loud, noisy areas, or coping with surprises and changes in plans.

He nodded. I told him we would do everything we could to help him with the things that are more difficult, and continue to encourage him in the things that are strengths. I told him that the world needs people with all types of brains, and that we were proud of him and loved him just the way he was. He asked me if other people have autism, or is it just him? I said that many people have autism, in fact a few people he knows! We talked about other “disabilities.” He asked me if everyone has a disability. I said no, but everyone does have things they deal with that are hard for them, and often you can’t see it; that’s why it’s always important to be kind.

He yawned and rolled over, which is usually the signal that his mind is finally slowing down for sleep. I asked a question of my own. “How do you feel about learning you have autism?”

With his back still to me, he shrugged one shoulder in that eerie teenager-ish way of his. “I don’t really care. I mean, I don’t think it really matters.”

Out of the mouth of a 7-year-old. I couldn’t have said it better myself. In moments he was asleep and “the talk” was over. But I’m sure it’s not over. These talks evolve but don’t really end. At least I have a few years before the big sex talk, right. Right?

Follow this journey on Killing June Cleaver.

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Thinkstock photo by Digital Vision.


Autism and Other Words That Begin With ‘A’ on This Journey

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My Sibling And My Pals Dolls Can Help Teach Siblings About Autism


My Siblings and My Pals Dolls are 18-inch boy and girl dolls that can teach kids about having a sibling or friend on the autism spectrum.

Read the full transcript:

These Dolls Can Help Teach Siblings About Autism

My Sibling Dolls and My Pal Dolls teach kids about having a sibling or friend on the autism spectrum.

The dolls were created by Loretta Boronat, a special education teacher whose son is on the spectrum.

Each doll comes with a book featuring a story from the sibling’s perspective.

“We strive to teach children to accept, understand, respect and love their peers who learn and grow differently.” -Loretta Boronat

The doll company also provides job opportunities for people with disabilities through a sheltered workshop.

Jobs include grooming, dressing, styling and prepackaging the dolls.

The small family-run business also employs Boronat’s son, Danny, who has autism.

Boronat hopes to hire more people with disabilities as they grow.

To learn more, visit


When a Swimming Lesson for My Son on the Autism Spectrum Became a Lesson for Me


I have one life, and I have one son. I can spend that life trying to mould my son Jack into a vision of what the mainstream world might think he should be, or I can take his lead, embrace it and support him to be the best version of himself. Just for your information, I’ve taken the second route, and yes, it is far more fun.

I remember when Jack was younger and he was taking swimming lessons. His father Peter and I brought him to the pool with the intention of making him practice between the lessons, but he just wouldn’t do what we wanted him to do. Peter was getting frustrated. Jack just would not swim in a straight line or try out the new strokes. There Jack was, doing spiraling dives to the bottom of the pool and spinning and somersaulting below water. There I was, between the two, conflicted. Should I push him? He’ll never learn if I don’t push him. And it was in that moment the lightbulb flashed so brightly, the memory of it sticks in my head today. I turned to Peter and I said, “Stop… look at him. Look at the joy on that face. We’re doing it wrong… We have to join him… not make him join us.”

And with that, I spun with my son. I somersaulted backwards and then forwards in the water for the first time in my life, and you know what? It was exhilarating. The swish and swash and stomach-churning swiveling dizziness was magic, and I had never experienced that before. My son had just taught me that water was for fun and not just straight-line exercise. I had forgotten fun. And there’s more. It was with that exact lightbulb moment I knew instinctively that everything was going to be all right, and that this boy, my son, was handing me the gift of alternative thinking. That day I let go. I let go of conforming. I let go of trying to “right” all the deficits the professional reports said my son had. I let go of having to explain my son’s behavior on a daily basis to his teacher who was treating him constantly like a bold child. I let go and I eased the pressure on myself and everything began to get better. When I was less anxious, Jack thrived.

I have trust that Jack’s way of navigating the world is the right pace for him. Yes, we get it wrong sometimes, but I don’t care. With patience and perseverance, my son and I are on this journey. And I can honestly say that it is my privilege to have Jack in my life. I believe being different can mean you make the difference.

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Thinkstock image by VikaRayu

Still image of Symmetra

In Letter to Fan, Jeffrey Kaplan Confirms Overwatch's Symmetra Is on the Autism Spectrum


In a letter to a fan, Overwatch game director Jeffrey Kaplan confirmed that Symmetra, a character in the popular first-person shooter video game, is on the autism spectrum.

“I’m glad you asked about Symmetra. It was very astute of you to notice that she mentioned the spectrum in our comic,” Kaplan wrote. “Symmetra is autistic. She is one of our most beloved heroes, and we think she does a great job of representing just how awesome someone with autism can be.”

Overwatch is known for its ethnic and gender diverse ensemble of characters, and Symmetra is no exception as a woman on the autism spectrum born in Hyderabad, India. Symmetra being on the spectrum was hinted at last year in a comic released about the character – Symmetra: A Better World.

In the comic book, Symmetra says:

Sanjay has always said I was… different. Everyone has, asking where I fit on the spectrum. It used to bother me because I knew it was true. It doesn’t bother me anymore. Because I can do things nobody else can do.

Overwatch is one of the first prominent video games to have a main character on the autism spectrum. Others video games highlighting autism include autistic characters as minor players or have been critiqued for their stereotypical portrayal of people on the spectrum.

Image credit: Blizzard Entertainment




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