Recently, a colleague of mine shared a nostalgic photo of her son perched on Santa’s lap as a toddler—an image that embodies the joy and wonder many parents cherish. However, my family does not share such a picture; we never attempted to take our son, Ethan, for a photo with Santa, and I always knew it wouldn’t work out.
Long before Ethan received his diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder, I sensed that trying to capture that moment would likely end in frustration. Transporting him in the car—especially outside his usual routine—would make him anxious. If we had chosen to go in the evening, it would have added an extra layer of stress after a day filled with sensory overload.
The bustling mall, with its cacophony of sounds, unfamiliar scents, harsh fluorescent lighting, and vibrant colors, could easily overwhelm him. Waiting in a potentially endless line filled with other unhappy or crying children would only heighten his stress levels. To top it off, placing him on the lap of a stranger disguised by a fake beard seemed like a recipe for disaster. I wasn’t willing to put us all through that.
Occasionally, I found myself feeling a pang of regret as I admired my colleague’s cute picture, pondering the cultural significance of capturing such a memory. I briefly questioned whether we were missing out on something special. However, I quickly reminded myself that even without a formal photograph with Santa, our priority was Ethan’s comfort.
From early on in my parenting journey, I made a conscious choice to skip certain traditional experiences if they threatened to upset my son. While we occasionally managed to snap a first-day-of-school picture, there were many instances where we didn’t. We captured memories throughout the year in our own way, and that was perfectly fine.
Reflecting on it, I realize we may have missed some typical family moments by prioritizing Ethan’s well-being over tradition. Yet, what is the value of participating in traditions if they only lead to stress and unhappiness? The only memory I would carry would be one of frustration and guilt from forcing a situation that wasn’t enjoyable.
Ultimately, we chose not to pursue the photo with Santa. What we gained instead was Ethan’s trust; he knows we will always prioritize his comfort over societal expectations. For me, that trust is the most meaningful outcome.
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In summary, while we may have missed out on some traditional experiences, we gained something far more precious—Ethan’s trust in us to create a supportive and understanding environment.