The Day a Pot of Rice Made Me Cry

Eight years.
That’s how long I waited to hear two simple words:

“Mommy eat.”

My daughter, Manuela, is eight years old — autistic and ADHD, nonverbal (support level 3).
For most families, asking for food is something ordinary.
For us, it’s a miracle.

That day, she touched my arm, looked me in the eyes, and said:

“Mommy eat.”

For a moment, I froze.
She had already eaten lunch about an hour before — maybe she wasn’t hungry.
But instead of giving up, Manuela went to the fridge, grabbed the pot of rice, and handed it to me.
No confusion, no hesitation — she knew exactly what she wanted.
And in that instant, I knew too.

She wasn’t just asking for more food.
She was showing me how far she had come.
How much effort it takes to turn a thought into a word.
And how every sound she makes is a victory — one built with patience, therapy, and love.

And with small strategies I practice every day.
In our home, words live on the walls — cards with pictures and names of objects spread around the rooms.
We also use PECS cards, and whenever I notice she wants something — like when she hands me a water bottle I turn the gesture into words:
“Okay, I understand. Water. Thirst. You’re thirsty and want to drink water.”
Each interaction becomes an opportunity to learn.
No pressure. No rush. Just presence and repetition.

The tears came.
Not only from joy, but from a gentle sadness too.
Because what is normal for so many families is extraordinary for us.
Eight years of waiting condensed into one sentence.

That moment taught me something profound:
We must celebrate every small step, no matter how small it seems.
It’s easy to get lost thinking about what’s still missing, but it’s the small victories that show us how far we’ve already come.

For many children, speaking comes naturally.
For Manuela, every word is a miracle.
And every miracle deserves to be celebrated.

Today, I celebrate with tears, gratitude, and love.
Because progress may be slow — but it’s real.
And that’s reason enough to keep going.

And you?
What was the last small victory you celebrated?

Remember: progress follows the rhythm of love, not the clock.
If this story touched your heart, follow Mothers Who Teach for more reflections on motherhood, autism, and the small miracles of everyday life.