August 17, 2025

Throughout this blog, I’m probably going to touch on a LOT of the tough spots of managing a neurodiverse family. The challenging moments stick with you, and it takes a lot of intentional focus on the good moments in the present to help find balance in the chaos. Occasionally, there are moments of parenting neurodiverse children that absolutely knock your socks off, in the best way.

My autistic, PDA 6 y/o son does not hold back his opinions, and has an externalized expression of PDA. I call him my “spicy nugget” for a reason! I’m sure those of you with externalized PDAers can relate. In both PDA and autism, the negative can very easily overshadow the positive. They aren’t trying to be negative–they want to enjoy life just as much as you or I. And when they are enjoying life, I am pretty certain they experience that enjoyment at an unparalleled level we could never tap into.

An example of how this translates into every day life is asking about their day. I may pick up my son from afterschool care, knowing from communication with his teacher or counselors he has had a fantastic day. I might even see him having a ball in the gym as I walk to the reception area where I sign him out. If I ask him about his day on this seemingly amazing day, I may very likely receive a negative response. Usually something like, “bad” or “terrible, I hate school.” By now, I know not to press or argue. Actually, I know not to even ask, but it takes a while to get here!

There are two important things to realize here: 1) asking a PDAer how their day was carries an implied “demand” that they respond favorably, and 2) the autistic and PDA brains do not always assign a weight value to the bad things that happened throughout the day and the good things. You know how when you pass someone in the hallway at work and they ask how you are, and you automatically respond, “Good, you?” You might be freaking terrible, but you know that society expects you to respond favorably to this common interaction. I actually think it’s quite cool that my kid sees through this as a societal demand, and decides that he’s not playing that game. The second realization, that our neurodiverse kiddos cannot easily weigh the balance of good/bad throughout the day, means that one tiny negative infraction during the day can be what “colors” the day as good or bad for our kiddos. Knowing these two patterns is why I’ve learned my child cannot reliably tell me if he’s had a good day, and thus why I do not ask. The coolest thing about PDAers especially, is that they have an uncanny ability to detect hidden agendas and will not go along with them. Talk about amazing boundaries.

The other really amazing thing about my autistic PDA child is that when I receive a positive review or a compliment from him, it is genuine and meaningful.

I was driving with my PDAer in the car with me. We were not talking much, as I was busy listening to a podcast and he was busy on his iPad. Out of nowhere, completely unsolicited, he says, “I love you, Mom, you’re just the best.”

I didn’t do anything in that moment to elicit this comment. There was nothing unusual about our day. This thought popped into his head, and he just decided to share it. In a world where I get a lot of negative feedback from him, this was such a powerful reminder of the strength of our connection. He may be telling me alllll of the things I am doing wrong on any given day, but I know how he feels in his heart. And since he does not speak without intent, his expression of his love for me is reliable and meaningful.

This is how we get through the hard days. We must cling onto the magical moments, and then tell ourselves to assign them more power and weight than the negative happenings. After all, my main goal of parenting has always been that I want my children to know they are loved. No matter what happens, I never want them to question my love or think it is conditional.

If they know they are loved, I’ve done my job. If they love me in return, I am truly blessed.