We may struggle to help our children, but we never struggle to love them

We may struggle to help our children, but we never struggle to love them
The kids are tired, the air is cold, and we’re way too far away from our starting point.
I knew nothing about autism and nothing about being non-verbal. Hell, I knew nothing about having a son.
It’s not about words. It’s about communicating.
No blankies in sight. That’s when he goes on the hunt like Elmer Fudd at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
I never know what fatherhood surprises are lurking around the corner.
If there was any chance that we could have the relationship that I envisioned rather than the one I feared, I was going to do everything in my power to make it happen.
My son isn’t a doctor. He’s doesn’t line up shoes or toys. He doesn’t scream when hugged. He doesn’t count cards, toothpicks, or, well, anything. He’s none of those things
He wants what he wants when he wants it and will ask you repeatedly.
Between quarantine and Summer break, it feels like he’s been in there for eons.