Add a Drop of Autism.

Every single thing we do on any given day is probably a little bit different than what "typical" families do.

It's because mixed into every recipe of every activity is a drop of autism.

Sometimes it makes it more difficult.  Sometimes it makes it more meaningful.  Sometimes it makes it funnier.  Sometimes it brings you to tears.  Sometimes you just want to stomp your feet and scream.

Lots of children with autism hate being touched.  Hate the very idea of it.  And then others, like my Brian, CRAVE being touched.  They touch everything, they know nothing of this idea of "personal space", they crave deep pressure, and skin-to-skin contact is an aphrodisiac.

My son has been known to squeeze stranger's bare legs in the summer while we're at the grocery store.  He's been known to try to kiss his beloved ed tech at school.  He will try to lift my shirt so he can rub his cheek on my belly, even when we're in public.

Really, I get the brunt of this affection.  And I love it.  I never really get sick of it.

However, when you're trying to put together an elliptical and he decides that he wants to lie across your shoulders horizontally, things get interesting.

You can either look at this instant- at the two extra hours that were added on to the assembly or at how Brian forcefully pushed down on a part and broke off a snap- and decide autism made it more difficult.  Or you could look at this moment- at the fact that he loves his Mama and wants to be near her during every activity- and you can feel your heart grow.  Or you could even look at this picture and see a 55 pound child on his mother's shoulders and see that mom's smile and see that autism added a comedic value.

This time I choose the extra love and laughter.