I was moved to tears Wednesday night as Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz addressed the Democratic National Convention, accepting his place as the party’s vice-presidential nominee.

It wasn’t by Walz’s words — though the Midwestern cadence and rhythm were as familiar as a lullaby to my own native Minnesotan ears. It wasn’t by the politics. I’m an opinion writer, and this is my every waking day. I was pretty much over the 2024 election by December 2020.

No, what did me in was Gus.

Gus Walz is the governor’s 17-year-old son. He was elated and emotional all night, by the people talking about his father and by Walz’s appearance and speech.

“That’s my dad!” he said, standing up, pointing and applauding.

It was just three words. They were more powerful than an hourlong oration. Why? Because Gus has a nonverbal learning disorder, anxiety disorder and ADHD. I saw so much in his response that reminded me of people I love.

My cousin — another Minnesota kid — had a mosaic of medical issues, not the least of which was the Duchenne muscular dystrophy that stole him from us when he was 17. He struggled to express a devastatingly wicked sense of humor, and his eyes and quick temper often showed he understood more than he could articulate.

I know so many people who are coping with anxiety disorders, children and adults. They can make new situations and being in the spotlight all but unbearable. That Gus would power through that in support of his dad was touching.

And the ADHD? My husband had it. So does my 16-year-old son. I have spent his life trying to help him find focus while still having the freedom to not feel straitjacketed. I often feel like I am failing not at one side of that equation or the other but both at the same time.

That was what brought me to tears. It was that the Walz family so supported Gus that, in the midst of the absolute chaos of the convention — a maelstrom of distraction, attention and overstimulation — this kid was so clearly comfortable in the bubble of his family that nothing else mattered.

Every child — but definitely every child with special needs — should feel that combination of safety and freedom.

But they don’t. On the same day, Finley Michael Steward, 66, of Greensburg pleaded guilty to felony false imprisonment in a June 2023 attack on his then-14-year-old autistic son. A single parent, he has been convicted of an attack on the same child six years ago. He was sentenced to seven years’ probation, including 18 months on house arrest.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Westmoreland County Judge Christopher Feliciani said. “I think that you had your hands full and couldn’t handle it.”

My heart breaks for Steward’s son, and I am outraged by what seems to me an almost dismissive sentence and an unimaginable plea deal. This was a case that started with charges of strangulation, unlawful restraint, child endangerment and simple assault for grabbing a child around the neck and trying to throw him down the stairs.

The life of a parent with a special needs child isn’t easy. It’s not something anyone can do with grace. It is definitely not made better by the cliched “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” The bureaucracy of an individualized education plan alone is enough to send a sane person screaming into the streets.

But Gus Walz made it through the red, white and blue hurricane of the Democratic National Convention with all his challenges. He focused on what matters and came through it with joy, pointing at the governor onstage and shouting, “That’s my dad,” with pride. That’s the prize every parent wants.

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