Oliver Larholt knew his son Konstantine was struggling, but it wasn’t until his ASD diagnosis in 2013 that he saw the divergent parenting journey ahead. 

Being someone’s parent is one of life’s great privileges. Imagining your child’s future is a welcome diversion in the chaos of working life; every day an exercise in patience while the only thing you want is to rush home from the office to see what they learned today. To witness first breaths, smiles, and steps is deeply humbling. It all happens so fast.

Shockingly fast. Like when nursery called to say our son Konstantine’s behaviour had changed and we needed to take him to a specialist. Dizzyingly fast, like when another doctor told us that our cheerful, playful boy was locked in his own internal world. Frighteningly fast, like when his speech disappeared, and he stopped looking at us. 

It felt like our lives had suddenly jerked onto an unseen offramp- destination unknown. 

That first year was disorienting in myriad ways, but it was also galvanising. My son needed me to step up to the plate, defy the barriers, and build crucial links for support, comfort and empowerment through the rest of his life. 

And on reflection, wasn’t that always my responsibility as his father?

Step 1- Educating myself

What is ASD?

ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder, is not an illness. It’s a condition that targets neurological development, causing decreased social communication and repetitive or stereotypic behaviours. It is often simply referred to as “autism”.

ASD can manifest in a variety of ways, but some common symptoms include: 

• Being unresponsive when spoken to
• Avoiding eye contact
• Not returning a smile
• Not talking as much as other children, or at all
• Not engaging in pretend play
• Repetitive physical behaviours
• Getting agitated by certain visual or oratory stimuli

A child can have any combination of symptoms with a wide range of severity. 

How does ASD impact a child’s life? 

For many children, life on the autistic spectrum is implicitly lonely. This is because it’s harder to communicate and form relationships with others. 

Children with ASD develop at different rates to neurotypical children, sometimes even in a different order, which can further “other” them from their peers. 

They can struggle with self-care, hygiene, time-keeping or any other number of daily life skills depending on how their symptoms manifest. These struggles can follow them into adulthood, making life seem overwhelming, and it’s not uncommon for ASD to have comorbidities like anxiety, ADHD, and depression. 

It crucial that children with ASD are given tailored, one-to-one care and support to mitigate the isolation and complications of their diagnosis.

H3- Can ASD be treated?

There is no cure for ASD. But it can be managed.

Due to the varied nature of the condition, there is no single prescribed treatment, but your GP or local autism team can help your child:

• Develop daily living skills
• Improve communication skills
• Manage harmful behaviours

Comorbidities like pain or anxiety may be treated separately with therapy or medication if needed.

Step 2- Making a plan

Now I knew what we were dealing with, but the options to support our son seemed laughably limited. 

My wife and I agreed: it wasn’t good enough. 

Our son deserves the same opportunities to learn, grow, and build community as everyone else.

Children like Konstantin need early intervention and tailored support to overcome the challenges of ASD and develop essential skills for independent living. They need us to give them inclusive, supportive environments with structured routines and clear expectations to reach their full potential. The NHS wasn’t offering anything like this level of support. 

So we took matters into our own hands. 

Step 3- Taking action

There are a number of excellent charities in UK that specialise in helping children and families affected by ASD. 

They pointed us towards Applied Behavioural Analysis, an evidence-based treatment and support system that helps our son build the skills he needs to actively engage with the world.

Konny’s diagnosis changed our lives, but that’s not a bad thing. We’ve learned a lot on this road less travelled.

Over a decade later, I now work to give him the safe, constructively supportive environment he needs to thrive, and his mother started The Giving Tree Foundation to help other families like ours. Konny’s language has caught up with his peers, and we no longer worry whether he’ll have a life with dignity. He has surpassed all our expectations. 

My boy is truly remarkable; strong and brave and honest. His condition forced me to never take a moment with him for granted, and my life is fuller for it.