Today’s Mantra: Lower the Bar, Find the Joy. You’re Doing Great.

If you’re feeling a quiet sense of dread mixed with the holiday excitement, you’re not alone. Thanksgiving can feel like the ultimate test for autism families, a day packed with sensory landmines, social expectations, and the pressure to create “perfect” memories.

This year, I’m inviting you to a different kind of celebration. One where the goal isn’t a flawless turkey or a seamless family photo. The goal is connection. The goal is joy. And sometimes, the only way to find it is to gently, lovingly, lower the bar.

Release the Grip of the “Perfect” Day

I remember a Thanksgiving where I spent hours orchestrating the perfect, quiet, low-stimulation dinner. I had a schedule, safe foods, and escape plans. And then, my son, overwhelmed by the new smells, spilled an entire glass of sparkling cider right onto the “safe” plate.

In the stunned silence, I took a breath. And then, I did something unexpected: I laughed. A real, from-the-gut laugh. He looked at me, wide-eyed, and a tiny smile touched his lips. That messy, imperfect moment, not the perfectly browned turkey, is the one I remember with a warm heart. It was the moment we connected.

What helps us: Let go of the script. The most beautiful moments are often the unplanned ones. If the turkey is dry but your child is smiling, the day is a success.

Celebrate the Quiet Victories

While others are counting calories or football scores, let’s count our own unique wins.

• Did your child tolerate the smell of pumpkin pie for a few minutes? That’s a win.

• Did they use a new sign or word to ask for more mashed potatoes? That’s a win.

• Did you manage to take five deep breaths in the bathroom instead of yelling? That’s a huge win.

These are the real milestones. They may not make the family newsletter, but in our homes, they are everything. Shifting our focus to these small sparks of joy builds a foundation of gratitude that is deep, real, and resilient.

Find Your Feast of Connection

The feast isn’t just on the table. It’s in the moments we truly see each other.
Maybe your Thanksgiving looks like snuggling on the couch with a favorite book instead of sitting at the loud, crowded table.

Maybe it’s a walk outside, crunching leaves and pointing at clouds, away from the overwhelming chatter.
Maybe it’s ordering pizza and being profoundly, gratefully, okay with it.

Your version of Thanksgiving is valid. It is enough. It is beautiful.

This holiday, I am so deeply thankful for you, for showing up, for trying again, for loving your child in all the ways that matter. You are not just building a Thanksgiving menu; you are building a world where your child feels safe, seen, and loved.

And that is everything.

Happy Thanksgiving, from our imperfect, grateful family to yours.

With love and solidarity,

Adrián, Guillermo, Dalisse and Luis

The Loving Pieces Books Family