Autism Lives in Our House. We Don’t Live in Autism’s.
Before I knew Cristian was autistic, he ran face-first into a glass wall. I can laugh about that now. Not because autism isn’t serious, but because it isn’t the only thing happening in our house. Autism lives here. So do jokes, arguments, ordinary days, ridiculous moments, and a whole lot of life.
And Apparently My Solution Was: Then We Won’t Have Hair.
Parenting Cristian means sometimes having a perfectly reasonable conversation right up until it takes a hard left. One minute I’m explaining consequences. The next, apparently, neither of us is going to have hair.