When we picked up Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes, and Autism by Ron Suskind, we expected an inspiring story. What we didn’t expect was how deeply it would resonate with our own experiences as parents of a daughter who has traveled her own long road with communication and connection.
The book tells the story of Suskind’s son, Owen, who lost his ability to speak as a young child after being diagnosed with autism. For years, words simply weren’t accessible to him—until his family discovered that he could communicate through the language of Disney movies. Through the voices of Aladdin, Ariel, and Simba, Owen began to reconnect with the world. Over time, what began as a handful of memorized movie lines grew into a bridge—first to his family, and then to a wider circle of people who truly knew him.
Finding Voice in Unexpected Ways
That part of Owen’s story fascinated us. Watching how his love of Disney became the key to unlock communication reminded us that language doesn’t always come in traditional forms. Sometimes it finds its way through music, stories, or—like in our daughter’s case—through a world of beloved “friends.”
Our daughter has never been non-verbal, but speech has always taken work. Over the years, she’s built her own way of communicating—often with the help of her animal figurine friends. Each of them has a name and a personality, and sometimes they step in when words feel hard to say.
If she has news that’s difficult to share, she might let one of her friends “say it” for her. If she’s sorting through emotions she doesn’t quite know how to express, she’ll talk through it with them and sometimes share it through them in their voices. And sometimes, she simply brings them into the moment to make the room feel fuller and friendlier—introducing them to new people as if expanding the party.
Like Owen’s Disney characters, her animals are more than toys or props. They’re translators, companions, and bridges between worlds. Watching her use them reminds us that communication isn’t just about speech—it’s about connection, trust, and being understood.
The Strength of a Caring Team
Another part of Life, Animated that struck us was the team of people that surrounded Owen and his family. Over the years, they built a circle of therapists, teachers, friends, and supporters who believed in Owen and helped him continue to grow.
That idea resonates deeply with us. Having a team—people who truly care, who listen, who see your child not just for their challenges but for their gifts—makes such a difference. It lightens the load for parents, and it gives a child the chance to be seen and supported in many different ways.
We’ve felt that same warmth from the people who have come alongside our daughter: teachers, aides, friends, and caregivers who treat her with love and respect, and who cheer for her victories as if they were their own. When others outside the family step into that circle of care, it’s both humbling and heart-strengthening. It’s a reminder that while we may start this journey as a family, we don’t have to travel it alone.
Why This Story Matters
Life, Animated isn’t just about Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities—in Owen’s case, autism—it’s about learning to listen to the many ways a person might share their heart. It’s about building bridges instead of boxes, and finding allies who help along the way.
For us, it reaffirmed something we already felt: communication can be as unique as the person who uses it, and community—real, loving community—makes all the difference.
If you haven’t yet experienced Life, Animated, we highly recommend both the book and the documentary film that followed. The book, of course, is always better—but both tell an extraordinary story of hope, creativity, and love.
📘 Read the book: Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes, and Autism by Ron Suskind
🎬 Watch the documentary: Life, Animated (2016) on IMDb