We may struggle to help our children, but we never struggle to love them
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.
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.
From the moment I heard the concept, I knew it would reach far beyond dads-to-be and grab onto everyone withing arm’s length.
Between quarantine and Summer break, it feels like he’s been in there for eons.
He won the standoff. He always wins the standoffs.