Raising Benji: What I want the world to know about my Non-Speaking Autistic Son

Benji is curiosity & joy existing in their purest form. 

He’s five years old, with a mind that takes in every detail around him, and a smile so warm it instantly melts me everysingletime I see it. His joys are simple, but they run deep: Thomas the Tank Engine, the tangy bite of pickles and feta cheese, the gentle sway of the water in a swimming pool, and the simple thrill of a swing moving back and forth.

But the beautiful, vibrant world inside him doesn’t always line up with what his body allows.

This is something I wish was better understood. B’s mind is curious and bright, but motor planning is an uphill climb. Things most people do without a second thought (pulling on socks, tapping the right spot on a screen, walking in a straight line.. simply saying “HI”) can become monumental tasks. It’s a mind-body disconnect between his intentions and his movements. As his mom, I can see the wheels turning, the determination in his eyes, and the effort in every movement — and it’s both awe-inspiring to see how hard he works everyday and heartbreaking to watch his body hold him back.

B has never spoken, but he has never been silent.

His language is one of action! You will often see him hand-leading someone to what he wants, placing an object in your hands like an offering, stomping his feet with purpose. His squeals, groans, shrieks and little bursts of laughter, carry more meaning than most conversations.

There are the moments, though rare, where his inner world comes rushing to the surface. His memory, for example, is nothing short of extraordinary. After months away from my parents’ or in-laws’ house, he can walk straight to the exact spot where he last left a toy, without hesitation. Moments like that make me so proud that I could burst, and they also remind me (even when his body makes it hard to show it) how much he truly knows.

To someone who doesn’t know him, it might seem like he’s off in his own world. But those of us who love him see the truth — the way he reaches out again and again, finding his own ways to connect, wanting so badly to be understood. (But also, yes, sometimes he does retreat into his own world, and we let him. Cuz honestly… same )

B experiences the world through a sensory lens that touches every part of his day. 

His arm flapping, rocking, and pacing aren’t “random” movements; they’re how he calms the noise inside and makes sense of what’s around him. Swinging and swimming aren’t just things he enjoys, they’re safe spaces where his mind and body can settle.

Some of B’s more challenging behaviors, like pica (seeking out and trying to eat non-food items, which I’ll cover in a future blog) or dumping out any cup of liquid he finds, aren’t acts of mischief. They’re part of the same sensory puzzle.(I’ve noticed the difference even more clearly since watching my younger, so-far-typically-developing son dabble a little in what I’d call “true” mischief.. ya know.. doing things on purpose usually just to get a reaction haha) B’s behaviors don’t usually have that same ~intentional~ spark; they’re about meeting a need his sensory system is asking for.

Even his love for strong, bold flavors has a purpose. His senses crave intensity, and tastes like pickles, blue cheese, capers, and feta give him exactly what he’s seeking. (If you’ve ever eaten salt & vinegar chips and felt yourself desperate for more punch, more sour - welcome to sensory seeking my friend) Before B, I assumed all autistic children were sensory avoidant. You know how you often hear the stereotype of the autistic child who will only eat chicken nuggets? B showed me that some are quite literally the opposite, and are actually intensely drawn to bold flavors! (Although his food still needs to be consistent and predictable, but that is something I’ll share more about in another post).

This realization has shaped so much of how I parent him. My husband and I are always observing, looking for the “why” behind his actions, meeting him where he’s at, and moving forward from there.

If you want to understand my son, you have to look past a checklist of what he can or can’t do.

See the boy who always marches to the beat of his own drum & whose curiosity + wonder should make us all want to slow down and notice the quiet beauty in life’s smallest details. I want you to see the boy who, without a word, wraps his arms around you, looks deeply in your eyes, and smiles in a way that says “I love you” more clearly than any words ever could.

He is not “broken” He is a whole, extraordinary person, navigating a world that isn’t built for him.

My role isn’t to change him; it’s to understand him, protect him, and open windows to his world so others can see the light that shines there. He is extraordinary, and I will never stop showing the world that his differences don’t make him any less worthy of love, respect, and to be accepted exactly as he is.