Henry turned 6 this summer and he’s autistic. He’s not what most people would call “high-functioning.” He is yet to understand the specifics of potty training, talking or riding a bike. He shows little if any interest in people. And he is constantly humming, singing or repeating phrases from videos he watches. This makes social outings an experience replete with stares and whispering.
Being the parent of a significantly autistic son is something I never wanted. It’s a challenge I couldn’t have anticipated or prepared for, and it’s required that my husband and I completely change our ideas about parenting and life.
On the worst days, I wonder how we’ll make it through the next few hours. On the best days, we celebrate the smallest of successes, like when Henry ate yogurt with a spoon, discovered he could open the refrigerator to get his own cup of milk, or when we hear him singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” as he swings in the garage.
Read more here: Living with autism: A beach, a boy, a fleeting moment of joy | OregonLive.com.
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