Fruit salad. Yummy, yummy.

Fruit salad. Yummy, yummy.
When his face lights up, it lifts my spirits in ways I never thought possible.
As soon as we opened the door, she became the most fragile thing in our home.
I spent years in the babyhood trenches. I have the scars, words, and formula stains to prove it.
My son with Autism turned Raffi from singer to icon in our house.
“Hop up on the scale for me buddy.” That’s when the gates of hell open.
Autism or not, sing to your kids. Even if you, like me, never sing for anyone else, do it for them.
It wasn’t a secret word anymore. Soon it was just another aspect of our lives and categorized along with all of the other quirks in our family.
Whether someone can respond in the traditional sense or not, it doesn’t affect the vital role that the people who love them play in their lives.
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?