Neurodiversity and Parenting: An Analysis of This Could Be Us
Thematic Claim
In This Could Be Us, the theme of neurodiversity and parenting asserts that raising autistic children demands a form of adaptive love that respects each child’s individual neurology, prioritizes their dignity over social convenience, and requires parents to continually learn, advocate, and sacrifice without losing themselves. Judah Cross embodies this approach as he navigates the daily realities of caring for his twin sons, Adam (level 1) and Aaron (level 3), while also forging his own identity after divorce. The novel refuses to flatten autism into a single narrative; instead, it shows how the same condition manifests differently in two siblings and how fatherhood must flex to meet those unique needs.
Plot Evidence
The Prologue: A Child’s Voice in Custody Decisions
The first major illustration occurs in the prologue during Judah and Tremaine’s collaborative divorce mediation. The initial plan places the boys with Tremaine during the week, but Aaron uses his assistive communication device to select a photo of Judah reading to him and then voices the words “Stay. With. Me.” (chapter 3). This moment is pivotal: Aaron’s expressive language is limited—most of what he says are approximations—yet his receptive understanding is high. His plea forces the adults to restructure the parenting plan, giving Judah primary custody. Tremaine selflessly agrees, acknowledging that Judah is Aaron’s “person.” Here the theme announces itself: honoring autistic children means listening to them, even when—or especially when—their communication is non‑typical. The device itself becomes a symbol of agency, not a crutch.
Morning Routines and Medical Advocacy
Chapter 5 (chapter eight in the outline) shows the daily scaffolding of care. Judah runs with his sons every morning because their occupational therapist recommended it for joint input and to reduce sense‑seeking behaviors. He notes, “I can’t prove that running works, but I do recognize patterns. Their toughest days tend to be the ones when we don’t run” (chapter 8). Medications for seizures, mood, and self‑injury are administered without complaint, but Judah remembers when “it used to be a fight or sleight of hand slipping meds into ice cream or applesauce” (chapter 8). He also communicates with Tremaine about school drop‑offs when an emergency IEP meeting arises for another autistic child. This passage reveals the invisible labor of autism parenting: constant scheduling, monitoring, and flexibility. Judah’s willingness to adjust his own work and social life for his sons’ stability exemplifies adaptive love.
The Meltdown in the Store
Chapter 14 (chapter seventeen in the outline) provides the most intense on‑page example. Aaron fixates on a special‑edition Megaminx cube at a store; when they find it sold out, he spirals into a meltdown. He yells, attempts to hit himself, and draws stares from strangers. Judah steps in front of him, speaks calmly, presses his forehead to Aaron’s, and reminds him to breathe. Adam helps by handing his brother a weighted fidget toy. Afterward Aaron apologizes repeatedly—“Sorry, sorry, sorry”—and Judah reassures him: “You don’t have to be sorry… We’re okay now” (chapter 17). The scene emphasizes that meltdowns are not misbehavior but a physiological response to overwhelming distress. Judah’s response refuses shame; he prioritizes his son’s regulation over public opinion. The cube, previously a symbol of fixation, here becomes the trigger that could shatter composure, but Judah’s practiced intervention transforms the crisis into a moment of connection.
Character and Symbol Connections
Judah Cross is the primary vehicle for the theme. His own neurodivergence is hinted at—Tremaine once joked that the boys inherited their traits from him, and Judah admits, “the more I’ve seen and understood” (prologue). He experiences difficulty reading social cues, hyperfocus, and a drive for data. This shared neurotype enables him to empathize with his sons without pity. Tremaine is a co‑advocate, a lawyer who helps families with disability rights; she defers to Aaron’s choice in the custody plan, demonstrating that neurodiversity‑affirming parenting can exist even after divorce. Adam models the “less observably autistic” sibling who nonetheless needs support—his interoception issues caused past shame, and he remains deeply attuned to Aaron’s distress.
The Rubik’s cube (specifically the Megaminx) is the central symbol. It represents Aaron’s passion and his need for order; when it is unavailable, his world fractures. Yet the same cube, when present, brings him focus and calm. The assistive communication device is another vital object—it gives Aaron a voice and literally speaks for him in the custody negotiation, underscoring that technology is not a barrier to relationship but an enabler of it.
Complexity and Contradiction
The novel does not shy away from the contradictions of this parenting life. Judah loves his sons fiercely, yet he admits that his marriage to Tremaine suffered partly because they became “co‑caregivers” and “glorified roommates” (prologue). The intensity of care can eclipse romance and individuality. Judah’s hyperfocus—which helps him respond to Aaron’s meltdown—also makes it hard for him to notice social cues in his own relationships, as seen when he misreads a joke with Tremaine (chapter 8). The theme does not present parenting as a noble sacrifice that leaves the parent unscathed; instead, it shows Judah working to maintain his own health (running, green juice, therapy) even as he gives so much to his sons.
Additionally, the portrayal of Adam and Aaron challenges the simplicity of the spectrum. Adam’s high verbal intelligence leads others to assume he needs fewer accommodations, but his seizures and emotional regulation struggles are real. Aaron’s level‑3 classification might cause outsiders to underestimate his understanding. The author’s note (chapter 1) clarifies that Kennedy Ryan chose the term “autistic” and references clinical levels only as diagnostic labels, stressing that both ends of the spectrum “deserve respect and dignity.” This nuance prevents the narrative from falling into inspiration tropes or deficit‑focused pity.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does Aaron’s use of a communication device challenge assumptions about intellectual ability in autistic individuals?
Aaron’s device allows him to articulate a complex emotional preference (“Stay with me”) that changes the entire custody arrangement. Many people assume limited expressive language correlates with limited understanding, but his receptive language is high. The device reveals that he comprehends the divorce transition and has a strong opinion about his primary caregiver. This subverts the stereotype that non‑speaking autistic people cannot participate in decisions affecting their lives.
2. In the store meltdown scene, why does Judah tell Aaron “You don’t have to be sorry” after the crisis?
Judah understands that the meltdown was not a voluntary act of defiance but an overwhelming physiological and emotional response to a perceived loss (the cube). By absolving Aaron of guilt, Judah destigmatizes the event and reinforces that his love is unconditional. This response models how parents can prioritize emotional safety over public embarrassment or discipline.
3. What role does Adam play in supporting his brother Aaron throughout the novel?
Adam is attuned to Aaron’s distress and often acts as a co‑regulator. In the store, he offers his weighted fidget toy without being asked. In the prologue, the parenting plan explicitly acknowledges that Adam “wants to be wherever Aaron is.” The twins’ bond demonstrates that neurodivergent siblings can be invaluable sources of understanding, though Adam himself needs support for his own autism‑related challenges.
4. How does Judah’s own possible neurodivergence shape his parenting style?
Judah’s tendency toward hyperfocus, logical analysis, and difficulty with social cues allows him to see his sons’ behaviors not as problems to be fixed but as patterns to be understood. He uses data (tracking which days are worse without running) and leverages his own experience of feeling different. This shared neurotype prevents him from pathologizing his children and fosters an atmosphere of acceptance.
5. What tension exists between Judah’s role as a parent and his desire for a romantic relationship with Soledad?
Judah waits nearly four years after divorce without dating because he is consumed by his sons’ needs and his own hyperfocus. When he meets Soledad, he respects her request for time to find herself, even though he desires her. This tension highlights the reality that dedicated autism parenting can delay or complicate personal romantic fulfillment—a contradiction the novel does not resolve neatly, but instead treats with grace.