We’re actually very lucky.
We’re at the point where Autism sort of stands over in the corner in Ethan’s life – noticeable, but not all that intrusive in day-to-day life. But, every once in a while, Autism walks into the middle of the room and shouts for a little while.
Today was one of those days.
We met at school for a meeting to go over Ethan’s summer evaluation with the school’s psychologist. We were a bit curious how he would test now, as opposed to his last evaluation back in 2005.
Well, to no one’s surprise, he still has Autism. But, apparently he now has a learning disability in math to go along with it.
What’s one more log on the developmental issues fire, right?
Immediately, I felt bad. I read line after line of the evaluation. His IQ score, his reading ability, his lack of memory function – it felt like Autism was standing in front of me, reciting it aloud.
It’s hard to hear your child described as below average, atypical, socially awkward and disengaged.
So, in short, I was having my own personal pity party.
Then, I thought about the boy.
His smile. His hard work to progress past the three-year-old boy they said was mentally retarded. The little boy who didn’t talk until he was four that can now chat up complete strangers for minutes on end. The kid who used to wear a weighted vest in class to comfort him that now stands in front of classmates to use the smart board.
He’s not listening to Autism.
Why should I?
The idea that I could ever spin such negatives into a hopeful vision of days to come is due in large part to the help we got from the Autism Society of North Carolina.
The annual Run/Walk for Autism is Saturday in Raleigh. Earlier contributions have helped change my life, and the life of my son.
There’s no telling how many lives you can touch with your donation.