The Day My Son Stopped Looking at Me (And How We Found Our Way Back)
When my son looks at me, my heart melts. Those eyes! They sparkle and shimmer when he smiles, drawing everyone in—and no, it’s not just a “mom” thing. Everyone tells me how much they love his gaze.
When he looks at me, I swear he is looking into my soul. It feels like we are riding the exact same wave, just loving being together. It’s the most wonderful feeling.
That’s why my heart broke when he stopped looking at me at 2 years old.
He tried, but it would take him 45 agonizing seconds just to connect his eyes with mine. My whole world turned upside down. Something was wrong, but I fiercely believed he would look at me again. He did it once. Of course he could do it again!
But how?
The Power of Motivation
I realized that people don’t do anything without motivation. Why read a book unless the topic interests you? Why step outside your comfort zone without a clear reward?
It’s the same for my autistic son. It might take him longer, but he tries incredibly hard if he wants the outcome.
To inspire him to look, I needed to map out his world, tracking what he loved and what he avoided.
William’s Likes:
Silly voices and big laughs.
Music and songs that tell stories.
Sensory treasures: Sharp crayons, bright colors, books, crafts, and music.
Water play: He will always splash!
Tactile inputs: Burying his hands and feet in sand, or cutting paper into hundreds of tiny pieces.
Rhythmic tapping: Using pencils or toys on his body.
William’s Dislikes:
Too much talking (verbal clutter).
Loud sounds and children crying.
Being touched without permission.
Negative energy or unhappiness.
The Playroom Experiments
Armed with my list, I started with something we both love: rhythm and art.
During our next homeschool session, I silently brought plastic containers, spoons, tape, and string into the playroom. I arranged the containers on the floor and started lightly tapping out a rhythm. Then, I stopped. I looked at William, laughed joyfully, and said just two words: “How cool!”
I tapped again, mixing up the beat, smiling wide. Every time I paused, his eyes were drawn to me as if to say "more,". I’d celebrate: “Thanks for looking at me to show me you want more!” Then I’d drum again. His attention lasted five minutes—a massive win in the early days.
After a quick brain break, I changed the game.
I taped string to the containers and hung them from a shelf. William watched me closely, clearly captivated by this new setup. To milk the moment, I held each container right up to my big, smiling eyes to catch his gaze before taping it up, sometimes throwing in a silly face.
As I drummed new songs, the rule was simple: if he stopped looking, the music stopped. To get the fun song, he needed to look. Each time he did, I’d do a silent cheer and resume drumming. This game lasted a whopping 20 minutes! Wow.
Later, when he needed to decompress, I rolled out Plan B: a box of brand-new crayons. I slowly removed them one by one, holding each sharp, colorful crayon up to my eyes before handing it over. I didn’t say a word. Verbal clutter would only distract him, and honestly, those beautiful new crayons said it all.
Where We Are Today
Fast forward to today. William has the best eye contact of anyone I know. He is a joyful student of the world.
He still needs breaks, and if his eye contact lags when he's tired, that’s completely okay. I no longer panic because I know the roadmap. I know exactly how to inspire him.
A Final Thought: Invitation, Not Compulsion
I recently spoke to a parent group about neurodiversity. Eye contact came up, and one parent asked a fair question: “Why do we need to change our children at all? Shouldn’t we just love them and let them be themselves?”
I absolutely loved that statement. We must honor exactly who our children are.
But later, hanging out with William, it struck me what I should have added: Offering a different way of being is not the same as forcing compliance.
When we hold objects close to our eyes, use playful suspense, or pause a favorite activity to wait for a glance, we aren't forcing them. We are inviting them into a connection.
Those small actions are incredibly powerful. They build a bond that feels so good you can’t help but laugh out loud.
Over the last 10 years, William has learned so much. He has a beautiful range of facial expressions because he spent years looking at me and imitating mine. Best of all, he uses his eyes to tell me what he wants when words fail him. Eye contact helps our children communicate, connect, and learn.
Should we force our children to look? Never. But we can absolutely invite and inspire them to step outside their comfort zone, supporting whatever direction they choose. I wouldn't change the years I spent teaching my son to use his eyes for the world. I am just deeply grateful he wanted to look back.
About Jane Lynn
I am the mom of an amazing autistic young man who has taught me more about life, love and success than any school or job could have. I get so excited about what we learn together that I can't wait to share it all with you. I am an autism life coach, neurodiversity and parenting speaker & trainer, that is inspired by discovering and sharing practical strategies and resources to make your life a little brighter and to help you thrive.
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