How AAC Changed My Nonverbal Child’s Life: Anderson’s Journey from Frustration to Words

Angela of Grassfed Mama shares healthy tips for busy moms.

He Couldn’t Tell Me He Wanted Eggs: Why We Finally Got Anderson an AAC Device

For over a year, Anderson would walk to the refrigerator, pull it open, and just stand there.

He couldn’t point to what he wanted. He couldn’t say it. He would just stare — and I would start pulling out food, one thing at a time, watching him push each one away.

He was hungry. He knew what he wanted. And he had absolutely no way to tell me.

That was our life before AAC.

A Little Background

I used to be a speech therapist. I haven’t practiced in years, but that background gave me a different lens through which to experience Anderson’s journey — though I want to be honest: it didn’t make it any easier.

If anything, it made some moments harder.

Because I knew things. I had taken AAC courses. I had worked with nonspeaking individuals. And I still found myself deferring to advice that went against what my training — and my gut — were telling me.

I share that not to beat myself up, but because I think it matters. If it could happen to me, it can happen to anyone.

What Is AAC?

AAC stands for Augmentative and Alternative Communication. It’s any tool or strategy that helps someone communicate when speech alone isn’t enough.

AAC can look like a simple picture board, a communication app on a tablet, a high-tech speech generating device, or sign language. For many nonverbal or minimally verbal autistic children, AAC isn’t a last resort. It’s a lifeline.

Anderson’s Communication Journey

Anderson was diagnosed with level 3 nonverbal autism at 2.5 years old. He had experienced a gradual regression — babbling and saying “dada” as a baby, and then one day we realized we just hadn’t heard his voice. By the time he was diagnosed, he had no functional speech.

Even before his diagnosis, I started working with him at home — teaching him a few sign language signs, using flashcards, creating picture cards for foods so he could point to what he wanted. He picked up “all done” and “more” in sign language, which helped. But we later learned he really struggled to imitate body movements, so sign language had its limits for him.

Once he started at an EIDTS — an Early Intervention Day Treatment program — his team trialed PECS, the Picture Exchange Communication System. He didn’t really take to it. After a few months they moved on to other options.

The picture cards I made at home helped for a while too. But eventually he found it easier to just point directly to the food he wanted rather than to the picture.

And that pointing — when it finally clicked — was a huge leap. Once he understood that making a request got him what he wanted, everything started to open up a little.

But we still needed more.

The Moment Everything Changed

When Anderson turned four, he came off the waitlist for ABA therapy at the same day treatment program.

Almost immediately, his ABA team pulled me aside.

Their recommendation was clear and urgent: Anderson needed an AAC device. Right now. More than almost any child they had worked with.

I felt two things simultaneously — relief that someone finally saw what I saw, and a wave of guilt that we hadn’t gotten there sooner.

Because here’s the thing: every AAC course I had ever taken said the same thing. Don’t wait. Give them a way to communicate as soon as possible. There is no readiness criteria for communication.

And yet I had listened to a speech therapist who told me he wasn’t ready.

We got him a device as fast as we possibly could.

LAMP Words for Life: The App That Opened His World

For Christmas that year, we bought Anderson an iPad and installed the app LAMP Words for Life — a motor-based language system designed specifically for autistic children.

His speech therapist had already been trialing it during sessions and said he engaged with it quickly and naturally. One skill she said most kids need to learn first is to carry the device with them as they move around — Anderson had no trouble with that at all. He bonded with that iPad immediately.

We think part of that is because Anderson is hyperlexic — meaning he has a strong, almost instinctive connection to written words and spelling. The LAMP app’s spelling function seemed to draw him in right away.

We also now know that Anderson is a gestalt language processor — meaning he processes language in chunks and phrases rather than individual words. Looking back, this explains so much about why LAMP worked so beautifully for him. A motor-based system that pairs whole meaningful phrases with consistent movement patterns is almost perfectly designed for the way his brain takes in language.

And then something happened that stopped me in my tracks.

He started spelling.

He spelled his name.

He spelled cookie.

He spelled cantaloupe.

Word after word — things I had no idea he knew. The knowledge was there the entire time. The vocabulary, the thoughts, the awareness — all of it was there.

He just had no way to get it out.

This is what apraxia and dyspraxia do. The brain knows. The body won’t cooperate. He wanted to communicate — desperately — and his motor planning challenges made traditional speech nearly impossible. The AAC device simplified the motor demand and gave his hands a way to say what his mouth couldn’t.

The Day He Asked for Nine Eggs

A few days after getting his device, Anderson spelled out eggs.

I got him eggs.

Then he spelled it again.

He wanted nine eggs.

Nine.

I stood in my kitchen completely overwhelmed — not because of the eggs, but because of what it meant.

All those times he had opened the refrigerator and stared. All those times I had pulled out food and watched him push it away. He had known exactly what he wanted every single time.

He just couldn’t tell me.

And now he could.

And Then the Words Started Coming

Around 4.5 years old, something else began to shift. Anderson started babbling again — more sounds, more variety. Then he started using those sounds to sing along with his favorite nursery rhymes.

And then one day he said his first words.

Shortly after, I picked him up from school and his tech met me outside with a handwritten list.

Twenty-five words Anderson had said in therapy that day.

Carrot. Cookie. Kitchen. Car. Monkey. Banana. Broccoli. Cat. Dog. Eat. Cranberries. Again. Ketchup. Hey! No! Bubbles. Music. Ball. Bye. Jump.

I sat in that parking lot and just cried.

The AAC device didn’t replace his speech. It helped build it. Having a way to communicate — any way — reduced the frustration that had been bottled up for years and gave his brain and body room to grow.

He still uses his iPad today alongside his verbal speech. He especially loves typing out the lyrics to his favorite songs — every word of This Old Man, The Ants Go Marching, Old MacDonald. It’s become its own kind of joy for him.

Update: Anderson at Seven

When I first wrote about Anderson’s AAC journey, he was just finding his voice.

A lot has changed.

Anderson is now seven years old and fully verbal — something I don’t take for granted for even a single day. He speaks in phrases, asks and answers questions, and can have real back-and-forth conversations, especially when given choices. Do you want this or that? What’s your favorite? He is getting there in ways that still take my breath away.

But there’s more to the story now — because a few months ago we learned something that reframed everything.

Anderson is a gestalt language processor.

That means he doesn’t process language word by word. He processes it in chunks — whole phrases, scripts, and units of meaning. Instead of building language from individual words up, he absorbs it in larger pieces and gradually breaks those down over time. It’s why the phrases we narrated during elevator rides and real-life experiences stuck with him the way they did. He was collecting gestalts — building blocks of language — and making them his own.

He is also still hyperlexic — meaning he has a deep, natural connection to written words and spelling.

And here’s what’s so beautiful: he has the benefit of both. The gestalt processing gives him rich, meaningful language chunks to build from. The hyperlexia gives him a visual pathway to access and understand language that spoken words alone can’t always provide.

In practice, this means Anderson processes written information better than spoken information. He loves to see words. He reads schedules rather than just listening to them. He uses our Alexa to spell out sentences so he can read along as they’re spoken. He will type out the full lyrics to his favorite songs on his AAC device — not because he needs to, but because seeing the words helps him connect with them.

That’s not a limitation. That is a gift.

His AAC device is still part of his life too — not as a primary voice anymore, but as a tool he reaches for when he needs it. When his nervous system gets activated — when he’s overwhelmed, frustrated, or stressed — his verbal language is the first thing to go. He might drop down to single words, or go quiet altogether. In those moments, the AAC device is still there. It was always there. It will always be there.

Because that’s what a good communication system does. It grows with your child. It meets them wherever they are on any given day.

AAC didn’t replace Anderson’s speech.

It was the foundation everything else was built on.

What I Want Every Parent to Know

Don’t wait for your child to be “ready” for AAC.

There is no readiness criteria for communication. Every child deserves a way to express themselves — regardless of age, cognition, or how much speech they have.

AAC does not replace speech. It builds it.

Having a way to communicate reduces frustration, supports language development, and gives your child’s nervous system the relief of being understood. Many children who use AAC go on to develop more verbal speech over time, not less. Research shows that nearly 70% of children who were nonverbal at age four went on to develop simple phrases — and almost half developed fluent speech.

Ask about gestalt language processing.

If your child seems to learn language in chunks, repeats phrases, or has strong connections to scripts and songs — they may be a gestalt language processor. Understanding this changed everything for us. It shifted how we support Anderson’s language and helped us finally make sense of so much of his journey.

Trust your instincts even when professionals disagree.

I had the training. I knew the research. And I still deferred to someone who told me to wait. If something in you is saying your child needs more — keep advocating. Seek a second opinion. Find an SLP who specializes in AAC specifically.

You know your child better than anyone in that room.

Start with a robust system.

Simple picture boards have their place, but if your child is going to grow into AAC as a primary communication tool, start with something that can grow with them. A robust system with a full vocabulary gives them room to say everything — not just the basics.

To the Parent Standing at the Refrigerator

If you are living what I lived — watching your child struggle to tell you something they clearly know, pulling out food one item at a time, feeling helpless — please hear this:

Your child is not empty.

They are full. Full of thoughts, preferences, knowledge, and personality. They just need a bridge to get it out.

Anderson spent years at that refrigerator.

Now he can tell me exactly what he wants. All of it. In his own words, in his own way, on his own terms.

That is what AAC gave him.

Don’t wait.

Resources to Get Started with AAC

• LAMP Words for Life — the app we use and love (available on iPad)

• Proloquo2Go — another widely used AAC app worth trialing

• Ask your child’s speech therapist specifically about robust AAC systems

• Seek out an SLP who specializes in AAC — not all speech therapists have the same training or experience in this area

• Ask about gestalt language processing and Natural Language Acquisition (NLA) — understanding how your child processes language can change everything

Have you explored AAC with your child? I’d love to hear your experience in the comments — or come find us on Instagram at @grassfedmama where I share our journey every day.