"Say what you mean."

That's advice I've given to parents of children with developmental disabilities and differences, who often don't understand that words can say one thing and mean another. For our little literal thinkers, sarcasm and figures of speech soar far overhead. Clever wordplay will get you nowhere with a child who will do exactly what you say, even though you feel that you clearly meant the opposite.

"Why don't they say what they mean?"

That's what my daughter says angrily about her school classmates, whose conversation is full of slangy and figurative and passive-aggressive language. Teen girls never say what they mean -- how uncool! -- and that's a nightmare for a kid who can't see past the actual factual syllables being spoken. Embarrassment and misunderstanding stretch out before her like a minefield as she tries to negotiate the incomprehensible ambiguities of language.

"It's mean to say that."

That's the message I have to give my son all too often these days. He's in an "I hate you" stage, generally aiming it at people he's decided hated him first, but sometimes swinging that nasty phrase at the dog or a parent or a girl he used to like. He often picks up phrases like this from a TV show or a movie and tries them out in a variety of situations; in some of them it seems appropriate, in others not, but in all cases his use of the language is more perseverative than expressive. That's not going to stop people from being hurt by his words, though, or making judgments about him because of them.

"I didn't mean it that way."

That's the excuse we're hearing now from the folks behind Tropic Thunder, who figure it's okay to use hate-filled words as long as you're making fun of the characters who are saying them. Like my son, they're using words that are in the pipeline, without attaching to them the emotional resonance that others may feel. Like my daughter's friends, they're doing clever things with words while keeping an ironic distance from them. And like so many parents who get cute with their commands to their kiddos, they're shocked and a little angry that anybody could interpret their words literally.

And that brings us to a dilemma. Are we responsible for the way other people take our words? If we think our non-harmful intent is clear, is it our fault if others take offense? It seems unrealistic to require that. Yet if you're the person hearing words that hurt, "I didn't mean it that way" is about the lamest phrase in the English language. It's like a drive-by shooting: The gunman may not have borne you any grudge, but you're still dead.

That's why I try to get my son to stop talking mean. And it's why I urge my daughter to let her friends know she doesn't get it. Perhaps we are not truly responsible for the feelings of people on whom our words have had an effect we didn't intend. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't care. When unexpected harm is pointed out, we can express sympathy for that individual's pain, instead of blaming the victim.

We can also acknowledge that good intent does not always produce good effect. That should not be a radical idea for anyone who's ever pitched a baseball through a window. Or written something on an e-mail list that reverberates in angry misunderstandings. Or seen lines that moviemakers may have meant one way used in entirely another way by people whose intent is less nuanced.

I spend a lot of time in the gray area between what people mean and how people take it. I wander there with my daughter, who's as likely to imagine a slight when none exists as to overlook an insult disguised as a kindness. I grope through with my son, for whom concepts like "intent" and "effect" and even "meaning" are unbearably abstract.

It's a pretty confusing place, made all the more so by those who try to pretend that it doesn't exist.

Read more: Special Needs News | Teach Your Child Figures of Speech | "Tropic Thunder" and the R-Word

Much has been made of Michael Phelps' inspiring Olympic victories -- the records set, the medals won, the dreams achieved. I join with the throngs applauding him. He seems like a nice young man, and one with a good head on his enormous shoulders. The fact that he was diagnosed with ADHD as a child makes me all the more impressed that he hasn't indulged in the impulsive and thrill-seeking behavior that dooms so many who become famously successful at a young age.

There's also been a fair amount of coverage of Michael's mother, Debbie, cheering in the stands with his two sisters and providing great reaction shots. Like her champion son, she's even getting some endorsement deals: According to a New York Times article, a manufacturer of ADHD medication has hired her to answer questions on its site (though Michael's hardly a standard-bearer for meds -- he took Ritalin for a couple of years a child, then got his mom to agree to let him stop).

They say Michael is the greatest Olympian of all time, and I'll take them at their word. I'd be lucky to get across the length of the pool in the amount of time it takes that guy to swim a race, dry off, and go across the street for a hamburger. I'm impressed that swimmers can just jump off those blocks without getting water up their nose or straying into the wrong lane.

Parenting children with special needs, though, is something I do know something about, and everything I've read about how Michael's mother handled his struggles and allowed him the opportunity to be spectacular makes me want to raise my arms above my head and cheer. Wrap that woman in a flag. Hang a medal around her neck.

When your child has a disability that causes school problems, you're not encouraged to dream big. The Phelpses have talked in interviews about teachers who predicted young Michael would never be able to focus on anything, would never succeed, was anything but gifted. They've talked about classmates who flicked Michael's ears and tormented him on the school bus until he fought back and was scapegoated for it.

How often do parents get the message that kids like this are destined to be losers? That the very most that can be wished for, the gold-medal goal, is to appear to be just like everybody else? What a thing to aspire to! Plain normality. If Michael Phelps and his family had dreamed big of being average, there'd be a lot of other swimmers wearing gold right now.

Michael showed swimming prowess at an early age, fostered by hanging around the pool with his swimming sisters. I wonder, though, whether someone, some school psychologist or case worker or behavioral expert, advised his mother to cut out the swimming to force the boy to take academics seriously. I wonder if someone opined that his focus on water was proof that he could focus on land if he wanted to. I've seen kids struggling in classrooms lose "extras" like music and sports, in which they might have had an experience of success, so as to put all effort into those things they are poorest at. I wonder whether that was ever recommended for this swimming sensation in younger years.

If it was, Debbie Phelps knew better, and how satisfying it must be to look back on those years of bad news and dire predictions and say, "Oh, yeah?" In an interview with the mother and son on NBC last night, Michael described remembering every kid who taunted him at school, every classmate who stole his cap or made jokes about his appearance. He remembers the faces, and he'll remember them if they come around now acting like the best of friends. I have to believe his mother remembers some faces, too. She's a teacher, and now a school principal, and maybe she understands the way things are done. But it's got to be sweet to be proven right in such a high-profile way. Yay!

A little vicarious wish fulfillment for all of us there. And a little inspiration to think about our own children's strengths and gifts, hidden and unexpected as they might be. In that NBC interview, Michael described the way he can visualize a pool and know where he is at all times, how he counts the strokes and knows just what he needs to get to the end of the race even with goggles filled with water. That sort of visual thinking is common in so many kids with special needs, but if they're left bumping up against unfriendly teaching techniques, they may never discover its value.

Michael Phelps has said he's hoping to raise the profile of swimming in the U.S., and good luck to him. He's undoubtedly inspired large numbers of kids to hit the pool in pursuit of their own future records.

But I'm going to take my inspiration from his mom, and try to find the gold-medal interests in my children's lives. I've been getting the "dream small" message from teachers and administrators for too long. Being realistic is good, focusing on reasonable goals is good. But if it blocks you from visualizing success and happiness for your child, and facilitating whatever that turns out to be, it's all wet. Let's try dreaming big for a change, and seeing what we and our kids can do.

It may not involve gold medals or Olympic arenas. But it's sure to be something to cheer about.

Read more: Special Needs News | Preparing the School for Your Child With ADHD | Teach Your Child to Succeed

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