"Too young to worry, Too old to smile"

Not every stare comes from judgment—some come from parents who genuinely want to be more inclusive but don’t know how. And that’s a good place to start. So, if you’re a parent wondering, “How can I make things better?” —here’s where you begin: ✔ Encourage conversations – Talk to your child about different ways people communicate and play. Let them know differences are normal. ✔ Ask, don’t assume – If you see a neurodiverse child at a party or event, ask their parent if there’s anything to know that could make interactions easier. ✔ Normalize accommodations – Does your child’s school have sensory-friendly spaces? Are birthday parties inclusive of different needs? If not, be the parent who advocates for change. ✔ Model kindness – If your child sees you include and embrace differences, they will, too. Inclusivity starts with small, intentional actions. A smile. A simple question. A willingness to learn. If you’re a neurotypical parent who wants to create a more inclusive enviro...

Let’s be honest—many parents avoid what they don’t understand. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re afraid of getting it wrong. You see a neurodiverse child at a birthday party, on the playground, or in class. Your child notices them too but hesitates. They look at you, unsure of what to do. And instead of encouraging engagement, you instinctively pull them away—not out of malice, but because you don’t want to risk saying the wrong thing. But here’s the truth: Avoidance teaches exclusion. If a parent subtly discourages interaction, their child picks up on it. Instead of avoidance, what if we modeled inclusion? 👦🏼 “That’s Sam! He might not talk much, but he loves jumping on the trampoline. Why don’t you ask if he wants to jump with you?” 👧🏽 “Emma gets overwhelmed by loud sounds, so she might cover her ears, but she loves playing tag. Want to ask her to play?” Teaching children that differences are normal starts with us. Inclusion doesn’t need to be perfect—it just ...

Picture this: You’re in a supermarket, and a child is having a full-blown meltdown. They’re screaming, hitting themselves, maybe even knocking things over. The parent looks exhausted, helpless. And then it happens—the judgment. The whispers, the shaking heads, the side-eye glances that say: “That child just needs discipline.” “If that were my kid, I’d handle it differently.” But would you? Because what most people don’t see is the full picture. That child might be experiencing sensory overload—bright lights, loud noises, unfamiliar smells all crashing down at once. That meltdown isn’t a tantrum; it’s a survival response. And that parent? They are doing everything they can. Judgment doesn’t help. Understanding does. Instead of assuming, try a different thought: 🔹 “I wonder what they’re going through.” 🔹 “How can I help make this space more inclusive?” 🔹 “Maybe they don’t need my judgment—just my kindness.” Next time you see a struggling parent, swap judgment for empathy. Yo...

Imagine you’re at a playground. A child next to you is flapping their hands, making sounds, or refusing to play in the "expected" way. You want to understand—but you hesitate. Is it okay to ask? Will it offend the parent? This is a moment many parents of neurotypical children experience. Curiosity is natural, but silence creates distance. As a neurodiverse parent, I’d rather you ask than stare. I’d rather have a conversation than feel isolated in a shared space. A simple, respectful question like: 💬 “Is there a way my child can play with yours that would make them more comfortable?” 💬 “How can I teach my child to be a better friend?” These are the moments that build understanding. These are the questions that turn curiosity into inclusion. The next time you’re unsure whether to ask—take the step. Let’s replace quiet curiosity with open conversations. Have you ever hesitated to ask a question about neurodiversity? What held you back? Let’s talk. #WorldAutismAwarenessD...

“You’re amazing. I don’t know how you do it.” If you’re a parent of a neurodiverse child, you’ve probably heard this before. It’s often said with the best of intentions—sometimes with admiration, sometimes with sympathy. But what it also does, unintentionally, is place a distance between us. Because the truth is, we do what any parent does. We love, nurture, advocate, and make mistakes like everyone else. The difference is, our challenges are often invisible to those who haven’t lived them. They don’t see the sleepless nights after a meltdown, the constant advocating in schools, or the countless times we’ve explained why our child doesn’t fit neatly into societal expectations. So instead of standing in awe from a distance, let’s start a conversation. If you admire a neurodiverse parent, ask how you can support them. If your child is neurotypical, teach them to be a friend, not just a bystander. Admiration is nice. Allyship is better. Have you ever found yourself unsure of how to suppor...

If you are a parent to a neurodiverse child, you’ve probably experienced this: the stares. Some are fleeting, others linger. Some are filled with curiosity, some with judgment, and others with quiet admiration. But on most days, those stares just make us feel... different. For parents of neurotypical children, these moments might be insignificant. But for us, they are a constant reminder of the gap in understanding. So, what are people thinking when they see a child who behaves differently? And more importantly, how can we change the way people respond? What’s Behind the Stares? Not every stare comes from a bad place. People look for different reasons: Empathy and Admiration – Some recognize the challenges of raising a neurodiverse child and think, "I don't know how they do it." Curiosity and Confusion – Others might wonder, "Should I ask about their child’s needs, or would that be intrusive?" Judgment or Misunderstanding – Sadly, some assume behavior...