When Coffee Comes With a Side of Sass:
Jimmy, His AAC, and a McMessage Loud and Clear
Some kids write essays.
Some give speeches.
Mine makes his point with a cheeseburger button — and only when he feels like it.
Let me paint the picture.
It was early evening, and I decided to slip out for a quick McDonald’s coffee run (yes, we are proudly a McDonald’s coffee household — it’s reliable and gets the job done). Jimmy was on the front porch with his dad, hanging out with his iPad and AAC device. He wasn’t alone — I know I don’t need to say that, but just so we’re clear, this isn’t that kind of story.
When I left, the device was still on the home screen. Nothing fancy, nothing planned. Just a typical evening.
Fifteen minutes later, I came back, coffee in hand — and I stepped into a moment.
The unmistakable voice of Jimmy’s device rang out:
“Go McDonald’s cheeseburger McDonald’s”
Followed by some very clear, very passionate verbal sounds — the kind that told me, without a doubt, Jimmy was not impressed.
Now, for anyone else, that might just seem like random button-pressing. But let me tell you: this was intentional. Calculated. Absolutely on purpose.
Because here’s the kicker — Jimmy doesn’t use his AAC in therapy. He doesn’t use it at school. In fact, he’s been known to outright reject it, pushing it away the moment someone even suggests he try. If you’re really lucky, he might tolerate some hand-over-hand support, but even that’s a stretch.
He knows how to use it. He just… doesn’t. Not unless he decides there’s something worth saying.
And on this particular evening? Oh, there was something worth saying.
This wasn’t prompted. This wasn’t modeled. This wasn’t encouraged.
This was Jimmy, on his own terms, picking up the device, navigating away from the home screen, pressing Go finding the “Next” page, hitting McDonald’s, adding cheeseburger for full effect, and repeating McDonald’s just to really drive it home.
What was the message? Simple.
“You got yourself McDonald’s, and didn’t get me anything? Rude.” (well he more then likely has my mouth, but we are keeping this page family friendly)
Honestly? He wasn’t wrong.
And yes, I felt a little called out.
But more than anything, I felt proud.
Because this was communication. Not scripted. Not practiced. Not prompted.
Just real.
The kind of moment you dream of as a parent of a non-verbal child.
The kind that doesn’t fit neatly on an IEP.
The kind that therapists don’t always get to see.
The kind that reminds you that just because they won’t doesn’t mean they can’t.
Jimmy can.
He just waits until it matters to him.
And when it does? He’ll hit that cheeseburger button like a boss and let the world know exactly what’s on his mind.
No, I didn’t go back out for a burger.
But I did sit next to him, coffee in hand, and say,
“You’re absolutely right. I should have asked. What would you like next time?”
He gave me the smallest smirk.
And that — that tiny smirk — felt like a full-blown conversation.
Have a moment like this? I’d love to hear it.
Whether your child used a device for the first time, made eye contact on their terms, signed a new word, or simply refused with flair — those are wins worth celebrating.
Drop your story in the comments or send me a message. Let’s remind each other that communication comes in many forms — and every little moment counts. 💛
