Kids tantrum, fuss, squeal, yell, and scream. As a parent, you quickly learn what your tolerance level is.....then you rocket past it by 1,000%. You are able to handle much more than you would expect. Toss some Autism adventures into the mix and you have a real party at times. You talk to yourself, you don't sleep, your child doesn't sleep, you might be married but have no idea when the last time you had a real conversation with your spouse was, and then you have a job. Wait. Yes, that's right, you talk to yourself first.

Over the years, you start to feel more in control (hopefully). It might have been a mixture of prayer, absorption of your new found realities, counseling, medication, and possibly some dear friend who weathered the storms with you that helped you finally stand up and say, "I can do this." I remember very early on when Angie and I decided that asking "Why?" wasn't the question at all...instead it was "Why not?....us, me, our son, our family... We have been given a life experience unlike many so what are we going to do with it?"

If you have ever lived with someone who has Autism and tantrums then you can begin to truly understand what I am about to share. The TODAY show came to Dallas a year ago to film the AutismSpot.com team and on their second day they were just with my family. While we were doing the walk through of our home, the Producer asked, "Why are the door handles missing from Sam's room? How did these holes get in the wall?" I gingerly explained that when Sam was 3 and 4 years old he had wild tantrums that were horrific to his little body. He would squirm, flop, throw himself every which way possible. Sometimes, Sam would run feverishly to his room and tear down books, shelves, drawers, pictures and anything else he could get his hands on. During one tantrum, Sam literally tore the entire doorknob (handles from both sides) completely off the door after he had slammed it so hard that the door stop broke and the handle had become embedded in the wall (hence the large hole). The Producer, cameraman, sound guy and all of us stood there for a minute thinking about how such a little boy could do this. We have the videos to support it and I still can't go back and watch them.

I could begin to list all the wonderful therapies and interventions that Sam has taken part in over the years but I am not going to...that's another blog. Sam is now eight years old, wonderfully talented, extremely intelligent, and a very capable young man who has Autism and specifically has been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. Sam knows this, we know this, and most everyone that meets him will notice that he is an especially polite young man that might have some nuances that make him interesting. Although Sam's tantrums are not happening as often these days, there is still a particular action that impacts him in a significant way. Crying. The moment Sam hears someone cry it is wheels off, pandemonium. I'll leave the proper explanation for why this occurs to the masters like Tony Attwood. What I have uncovered is the best way for me to help Sam through these terrifying moments.

During a recent birthday party at my parents home one of the cousins was knocked down and began to cry. Sam lost it. Although the little cousin was fine within 1-2 minutes, it made no difference to Sam. The switch had been flipped and he was in flight mode. Ears covered, face down on the ground, and screaming at the top of his lungs. I lifted his long, lean body and carried him to a back room where I gently laid him down on the ground. The floor is hard, the sensory input comforted him, and he could pound the floor and know it was there still. I spoke softly to him in short sentences and just a few times so not to overload him. I said, "Sam, I love you. I am proud of you. You are safe. Daddy is here. I will stay right here." After five minutes or so he looked up and said, "You're here. I'm O.K. now." We wiped his tears and he laid there until he stopped sweating and the embarrassment washed away. We walked out of that room like nothing happened. The cousins joined right back in playing with him and my family continued on with our conversation.

The next morning we were getting dressed for church when Sam and I stood alone in the bathroom about to brush his teeth. He looked me directly in the eyes while looking into the mirror and said, "Dad, you did a good job of helping me last night. Thanks."

My eyes began to water and it was difficult to speak. I looked my little man in the eyes and said, "Thanks Sam. I love you."