People grow. He’s a person. He grows.
It’s my job to give him every opportunity I would want myself.
Verbal or non, autism or not, kids are kids.
I don’t hide my scars. I wear them proudly.
My kid needs me. I owe him.
I’ll always be proud of him, even if this phase doesn’t last.
I’m never surprised. I’m never let down.
How terrible must that be for him?
Ten years later, we’re not doomed at all. In fact, we’re great.
There are no lined-up shoes, objects spun on the floor, or persistent questions.