This wasn't just a walk to a lemonade stand, it was steps toward independence

Max spotted the lemonade stand when we drove by in the car. Back at the house, he said he wanted to go get some. 

"Max, do you want to get lemonade by yourself?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he said. 

"You sure you're OK going alone?" I asked.

"YEAH!" he said. 

The kids had set up shop about half a block from our home. To get there, Max would have to cross a wide street. Our neighborhood is low-traffic but still: Big street? Walking alone? Yikes.

I shook off my concerns: Max needs more independence, and I need to free myself of the anxieties that can hold him back.

I handed him a dollar and walked him onto the porch. He carefully headed down the stairs. On the sidewalk, he turned to give me a big smile as if to say "Chill mom, I'll be fine!" Then he walked out of my sight, and my heart tightened.

I am not generally overprotective with Sabrina or Ben. I let Sabrina go to sleepaway camp, at her request, at age 9. I have no problem with her walking to town with friends or cruising the mall. I let Ben jump on the couch, ride his toddler mobile wherever (OK, so I'm trotting behind him) and otherwise explore the world. With Max, though, I am more cautious. He's a strong boy with his wits about him, but still, I worry about him being on his own. He has never before walked around our neighborhood alone. 

I willed myself to go inside—I didn't want to be on the porch when Max returned, so he wouldn't feel watched. I busied myself with cleaning up the kitchen. About five minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. A dad was standing outside with a cup of lemonade and a beaming Max.

I knew what had happened: Max would have bought the lemonade, then had some trouble taking the cup the girl handed him. Max is capable of holding one—it just takes him a bit to wrap his fingers, which tend to be stiff, around it and grasp it firmly. So the father gave him a hand, and an escort home. And wouldn't you know it, I had mixed feelings about that. I appreciated the help but at the same time I'd wished Max had done it all himself, even if he'd spilled some lemonade. 

That's the thing about Max: It's not just me who wants to be there for him. Other people do, too. They see a teen with disabilities and assume he cannot do stuff. Years ago, I had to teach Max to speak the words "I need help!" And now, I realized, I have to teach him to say "I'm OK, thanks!" and "I've got this," and program this words into his speech app—and his psyche. Real independence starts with feeling secure that you can do things on your own, not just cause your mom nudges you to. 

These are all steps toward independence—for Max and for me.