Sometimes parenting a neurodivergent kid looks like this—sitting on the curb in the middle of a parking lot, offering quiet support while a storm of big feelings passes.

This meltdown hit hard. We’d just left the restaurant, and my son didn’t get the dessert he wanted because he hadn’t eaten his meal. In his world, that was earth-shattering. He was ready to scorch the earth with his anger.

My husband didn’t force it, didn’t argue. He simply scooped him up, carried him outside, and sat with him. While the rest of us got in the car, the two of them stayed behind—my husband gently rubbing his back (“scratchies” as my son calls them) and waiting. Not pushing, not rushing. Just waiting.

And eventually… the storm calmed. My son climbed into the car like nothing had ever happened.

Parenting is full of these moments. Maybe yours don’t happen in a parking lot, but we all face battles that test our patience and perspective. For me, the silver lining is gratitude—for a husband who steps in with calm strength, for a child who feels safe enough to unravel in front of us, and for the reminder that sometimes the most powerful parenting is simply sitting, waiting, and loving through the storm.