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We’ve spent thousands of dollars on therapies, countless hours at trial-and-error play dates. In spite of all that, I know just where the credit lies for my high-functioning autistic son’s new-found ability to connect with others: Daniel Tiger.

“Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood,” from PBS, channels the wise, kind and nourishing lessons of Mister Rogers through Daniel Tiger, an ultra-relatable preschooler who dons a red cardigan and has memorable ditties for handling things like disappointment, frustration, anger or fear of the unknown. He is also big on skills like turn-taking, cooperation, problem-solving and empathy.

The first time I saw the magic in action, we were waiting for my then-5-year-old’s occupational therapist, who was updating a mother about her child’s session. My son was busy at the train table, oblivious to the infant wailing nearby, her body reaching for the engines just out of reach from her perch on her mother’s hip. When I pointed out to him that she appeared to want one of the trains, he initially dismissed the idea. Then came the Daniel Tiger magic. I sang one of his catchy jingles: “Think about how someone else is feeling; maybe you can help them feel better.”

He thought for a moment and handed her a train. She immediately stopped crying and started gnawing on the wheels while making happy baby noises. You could see the understanding dawn on my son’s face as he watched the transformation. Then he smiled.

In a world full of unspoken social codes (the manual to which isn’t pre-programmed in children like my son) Daniel Tiger is a chipper guide. In the specialist’s lingo, Daniel Tiger teaches social skills discretely – that is, he explicitly spells them out and the episodes feature multiple examples of those skills in use – and he’s a peer model. Children tend to learn better from other children than from adults. It’s one thing when your parents tell you to share; it’s another when you hear it from a cast of characters who are as familiar as friends.

And so, Daniel Tiger has become a second language in our household.

“You can take a turn, and then I’ll get it back,” my son sang to his younger brother, trying to persuade him to hand over a balance bike. Even though the pronouns were mixed up for this particular situation, the ditty worked because it evoked a principle both have taken as gospel. My younger son instantly loosened his vice grip and let his brother take a spin.

“You’ve got to try new foods because they might taste good,” my younger son chanted back to him later that evening at the dinner table. Daniel Tiger has been a godsend for parenting him, too.

We have sharply reduced the battles over going to the bathroom (“If you have to go potty, stop and go right away!”), leaving the park (“It’s almost time to stop, so choose one more thing to do”) and preschooler feelings of inadequacy (“Everyone is big enough to do something”).

The show has also given me an opening to reach my older son on the larger issues he grapples with, such as not getting discouraged when facing a difficult task. Part of being a child with special needs is that you struggle to do many things that other children do unthinkingly, and that can affect one’s self-esteem.

We moved last summer and our new neighborhood’s playground has monkey bars shaped in a half-circle – a relatively challenging structure my boys hadn’t come across before. Every time my older son would reach the pinnacle, he would hesitate and climb back down the way he came. A few times later, seeing that he wasn’t making any headway, I sang, “Keep trying, you’ll get better!” You could see his back straighten with the confidence boost, and over those rungs he swiveled to the other side.

Most of all, the show’s social-emotional lessons – the kind of thing school districts are paying millions to promote in specialized curriculums for all children – have been transformative.

My children now know that if they wrong someone, simply apologizing won’t cut it. Daniel and his diverse cast of friends have taught, and demonstrated, that “Saying I’m sorry is the first step, then how can I help?” My boys are expected to consult the injured party in determining how to make him feel better. The most popular remedies in our household are kisses to the battered body part and a promise not to repeat the offense.

Whether it’s learning how to think of others, overcoming self-doubt, or managing feelings, all of us (special needs or not) could use a friend who imparts positive mantras.

As Daniel Tiger says, “In some ways we are different, and in so many ways, we are the same.”