More Than a Break: How One Little Boy Became Part of the Crew

In my work as both a school psychologist and a counselling psychologist in private practice, I’ve had the privilege of walking alongside many families raising children with autism. The love, resilience, and advocacy I witness are awe-inspiring. But so, too, is the quiet burnout that can creep in when support is scarce.

For families of autistic children, respite care is not an optional luxury—it’s a critical part of sustainable caregiving.

And when respite is offered with empathy, intention, and trust, it can become a deeply meaningful experience—not just for the child receiving care, but for parents, siblings, and the wider circle of support.  We’ve seen this first hand in our family. 

A Gentle Window into the World of a 7-Year-Old Autistic Child

At seven years old, many autistic children are finding their rhythm in the world—a rhythm that may be delightfully unique, highly structured, or deeply sensory in nature. The way they communicate, connect, or seek comfort may differ from neurotypical peers, but their needs for connection, safety, and joy are just as real.

What does respite look like for a child at this age? Often, it means meeting them in their world, with openness, flexibility, and the kind of presence that says: "You are safe with us."

Building Trust Through Playful Routine

Let me offer a few examples of what respite can feel like from a child’s perspective:

🌞 Morning Dance Parties

Movement and rhythm can be powerful regulatory tools for autistic children. A morning dance party—whether it’s flapping, spinning, bouncing, or singing—creates a bridge of shared joy. It’s not about choreography. It’s about connection through movement, on their terms.

🛴 Scootering Adventures

He grabs his scooter and zooms ahead. One of the teenage or university-aged providers tags along, cheering him on, maybe even riding beside him. It’s not just play—it’s mirroring, encouragement, and a shared sense of fun. He feels seen. Safe.

🏊‍♂️ Swimming & Water Play

Water has a naturally calming effect on the nervous system. It can also be empowering. A child who floats or swims gains confidence in their body and environment. With the right safety supports and supervision, swimming becomes a joyful ritual.

The Deeper Impact: Empathy and Emotional Safety

What sets meaningful respite apart is not the activity itself—it’s the emotional tone that surrounds it. A trusted respite provider does not try to “fix” or “redirect” a child into someone else’s version of behavior. Instead, they accept and adapt. This builds emotional safety, which in turn supports self-regulation, communication, and confidence.

When a child senses that they’re understood—not just tolerated—they thrive.

When Respite Becomes Something More

The young adult children in our home might not have expected to form such a bond. But as they get to know this child—the way he lights up at certain songs, how he loves to help with walking and feeding the dog, how he plays in the water—they begin to care deeply.

They learn patience. They develop empathy. They adjust their expectations and tune in to the small wins: a new word, a shared laugh, beautiful moments of holding hands or giving a hug. And in doing so, they expand their hearts.

These connections—organic, unforced—become a form of inclusive care that reaches beyond formal responsibilities. The child is no longer a visitor. He’s family, in the truest sense.

A Message to Parents

As a psychologist, I often remind parents: You cannot pour from an empty cup.

It is not selfish to rest. It is not failure to ask for help. It is parenting at its wisest when you recognize your limits and lean into support.

Respite allows you to breathe. To reset. To simply be. And when you return—recharged, even if only slightly—you’re able to offer the kind of calm, grounded parenting your child deeply needs.

Closing Thoughts

When respite is grounded in empathy and trust, it becomes more than a break. It becomes a relationship. One that nurtures your child, uplifts your family, and reminds you that you’re not in this alone.  As a psychologist, I can tell you: these relationships matter. They model inclusion in the most natural way possible. They foster emotional security, social learning, and trust. And most importantly, they remind your child—and you—that he belongs.

Whether it’s through a silly song in the morning, a scooter ride through the neighborhood, or a swim under a sunny sky—these small moments of care build something big: resilience, joy, and the steady belief that your child is seen, celebrated, and supported. And you are, too.