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As the mother of three children diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, I am accustomed to sharp looks and muttered comments from strangers.

I am used to some unpredictable behavior from my kids when we are at stores, restaurants, our church and community events. Most times I manage it with my sense of humor intact.

But I understand why some of my fellow autism moms and dads make a different choice and don't leave home often with their children; I don't judge them or fault them for that. They don't want to risk a public meltdown or subject their children to the sting of a harsh comment or outright ridicule.

I was so proud to see Gus Walz jump for joy on the night his father accepted his party's nomination to be vice president. I applaud his parents for making sure the rising high school senior, looking so fine in his suit and tie, was right there in the front row to witness this historic event and hear his dad express his love for him from the biggest of stages.

Gus' presence with his family spoke volumes to those of us raising children who are described as on the spectrum, neurodivergent or quirky. (Tim and Gwen Walz recently told People magazine their son has ADHD, an anxiety disorder and a learning disorder.)

Our kids miss out on so much. They don't get invited to birthday parties and sleepovers and are often kept home so they won't "disturb" anyone.

Eight years ago, when the first of my children was diagnosed with autism, we resolved to not shield him to keep him safe from name-calling, and I've continued that with his younger siblings.

I know that decision has made a difference. People at my church have whispered to me, "I saw you brought your kids to worship service, so I brought mine." I've met many mamas who've told me they saw one of my social media posts documenting trips to Nickelodeon Universe or Dave & Buster's with my kids and that it inspired them to take their children to a fun theme park or arcade, too.

By living our life unapologetically and in public, our family is shining a light on autistic people.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 1 in 36 children has autism; many more have differing styles of learning and communicating. That means that most kids today have a classmate, cousin or neighbor who is neurodivergent.

I've found that normal developing young children exhibit a friendly curiosity about these peers and are open to accepting their differences. I've written four picture books based on my children not only to give representation to families like ours, but also to provide nondisabled kids with a deeper understanding of how our kids think, behave and play.

Over the weekend at the Minnesota State Fair, I had the chance to host a family event at the Alphabet Forest. I created "Autism-on-a-Stick," a craft that prompted kids to put words on puzzle pieces to say what it means to be a good friend to a classmate on the spectrum. Children drew hearts and smiley faces to show kindness, others wrote words like patience and friendly, then glued their colored cardboard crafts to Popsicle sticks. They took it home as a reminder of how to engage their special needs classmates on the bus, in the lunchroom and on the playground.

Will this prevent them from bullying a child like mine — or Gus Walz? I don't know, but I'm doing the work to make these kids real.

The Walz family is not the first Minnesota political family to model their love for a child with a disability.

When Hubert Humphrey was selected as Lyndon Johnson's running mate in 1964, he, too, introduced his family, including his first grandchild, Victoria Solomonson. When Vicky was born with Down syndrome in 1960, doctors suggested institutionalization. Her parents refused; Vicky was raised at home.

In an era when many children with intellectual disabilities were not even acknowledged, Vicky was right there amid many public activities featuring the nation's second family. Vicky even appeared with her grandmother Muriel in a 1967 appearance on "The Mike Douglas Show," a popular syndicated TV program.

Black-and-white photos show how clearly Vicky's family adored her. That tender relationship pushed the civil rights leader to use his political capital to broaden disability rights.

Humphrey was vice president from 1965 to 1969. Keep in mind that universal special education that gave every American child access to public school was not the law of the land until 1975 when Congress passed the Education for All Handicapped Children Act.

The language we use about disability has changed dramatically since then. Wouldn't it be heartening to think that, in the 60-year span between 1964 and 2024, the six decades between Vice President Humphrey and the potential Vice President Walz, the attitudes about people with differing abilities had become more enlightened?

What happened to Gus Walz shows us that we still have a long way to go.

I doubt very much that Gwen and Tim Walz anticipated that their emotional son would be mocked and insulted. By choosing to include their child rather than shield him, they stood up for him and demonstrated their love for him exactly as he is.

They gave the world an honest view of what families like ours look like.

It's way past time for awareness and acceptance. Yet here we are.