There are very few good parenting moments that allow us to put our feet up in another room, but this is one of them. It’s like finding a vegetable that tastes like ice cream cake.
The tiny little person who we were most concerned about in terms of dealing with her brother’s Autism pretty much schooled us on how to deal with her brother’s Autism.
Suddenly all the corny nonsense you were forced to do for the sake of family unity has become a source of humiliation again.
I can still remember the first time that my sweet-faced, doting, little princess ripped my heart out. She was two.
How can I allow my school-aged child with autism to still play with a toy designed for a toddler? Doesn’t that go against the very nature of my job?
The bizarre humor that rushes through my head is decades below my own age group and doesn’t even need an audience to spring up.
Will there be overwhelming events for my non-verbal son? Sure. Will there be judgmental people? Definitely. Are they the norm and do they define who we are or what we do? Not at all.
Every family has their own language. It’s made up of words or phrases that no one else would understand. Every person contributes. Every person speaks it.
There are certain pieces of advice that make us roll our eyes. The old adage about the best things in life being free can be put into that category.
The hardest thing about my non-verbal son’s first day of school was sending him alone on that bus.