Let Me Tell You About Rocco

Most of what I write here is about the hard parts. The waiting, the worry, the things nobody warns you about.

Not today. Today I just want to tell you about my son.

Rocco is eight. He's autistic and he's non-verbal. And he is, without question, one of the funniest people I've ever met.

The Comedian

We'll be driving along, going about our day, and out of nowhere Rocco will pipe up: "Let's go to McDonald's."

Then he starts laughing. Because he doesn't actually mean it. He's made a joke. He's said it just to get a reaction out of me, and he knows exactly what he's doing — he's watching to see what I'll say, grinning the whole time.

That's the thing people don't always expect. Rocco has a wicked sense of humour. He laughs at all sorts of things. He winds me up on purpose. For a boy who doesn't have many words, he is brilliant at comedy — the timing, the cheeky look, the laugh when he knows he's got you.

(He does genuinely love the chicken nuggets and chips, for the record. The joke just lands better because we all know it's true.)

"Daggy"

When Rocco wants to play, he calls for me. He can't quite get "daddy" out the way it's spelled, so what comes out is "daggy."

And honestly? I wouldn't change it for the world. He shouts "daggy!" with this little face, and I know exactly what it means. It means come on, get up, let's do something.

Usually that something is a chase. Rocco loves being chased. We'll tear up and down the house, him and me, or him and his mum. He loves it. The running, the energy, the game of it. He could do it all day.

A Boy Who Loves a Hug

For all the mischief, Rocco is the most affectionate boy. He loves a hug. Morning, middle of the day, last thing at night — any time at all, he'll come for a hug.

People sometimes assume that a non-verbal child is hard to connect with. Rocco is the opposite. He shows you exactly how he feels. The hugs, the laughing, the "daggy" shouted across the house — there's no shortage of connection. You always know where you stand with him.

On His Own Terms

Rocco knows his own mind. If you ask him to do something, he'll usually do it — but in his own time. You might have to wait a bit. You might not get an answer telling you he's going to do it. But he gets there.

If he's dropped something on the floor and I ask him to put it in the bin, most of the time he'll go and do it. He just does it the way Rocco does things — when he's ready, on his terms. I've come to really respect that about him. He's not difficult. He just does life at his own pace.

The Boy His Teachers Adore

Rocco goes to a special school, and his teachers love him. They tell us all the time — how kind he is, how gentle, what a joy he is to teach.

And that's him. Underneath all the energy and the running and the jumping off things, he's a genuinely kind-hearted, gentle little boy who just loves having fun.

No Introduction Needed

People sometimes ask if I explain Rocco to others before they meet him. Give them a heads up. Prepare them.

I never have. It's never even occurred to me, really.

Because I don't think Rocco needs a preface. We talk to him like we'd talk to anyone. We treat him like the funny, clever, kind kid he is. And when people meet him, they just meet Rocco — the boy who'll make a joke about McDonald's, shout "daggy" for a chase, and give you a hug for no reason at all.

He's just my son. And he's brilliant.