This story begins with me holding a grown-up’s hand.
This story begins with me holding a grown-up’s hand.
I’m his father. I view him through the rosiest glasses of all.
My boy is happy. He expresses it every day.
The moment we stepped outside, he lost it.
This year, it’s Christmas for everyone.
What followed was a wonderful hour inside of a winter wonderland.
I want him to turn heads for all the right reasons.
Though the years, I’ve gone back and forth in my answer.
Dad’s the last one left Elfie keeps going for.
He’s a ten-year-old boy first and a ten-year-old boy with autism second.
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