B— turns 8 in a week. He loves IHOP. He's got a mean eye when it comes to shopping for women's skirts and blouses. He knows he has to work a little harder than his classmates at focusing in school. He knows he was the last kid in class to make it to the 100s Reading Club. He knows that he has tics and that they're getting worse. He wants to know how the universe works. He is completely focused on having both a Heavenly Father (his "first" dad) AND a Heavenly Mother. He asserts his spiritual kinship with just about everyone and he loves them. He loves you. He uses the word assertive correctly. He spends long stretches of time lining up his Hot Wheels in rows in front of our industrial fan for the 20 second thrill he gets watching them all "race" when he turns that fan on. His Minecraft skills are a force to be reckoned with. He likes to discuss needs vs wants. He enjoys writing stories. He is frightened of dogs and riding bicycles and heights. He has a rich repertoire of vocal noises that are almost always playing. He wants to join the Army, but he worries that because he intends to design a number of suits like Tony Stark his plans may be hampered as those in command may not want him to wear his suits rather than battle fatigues. The suits are non-negotiable. He climbed a waterfall today; it was entirely his own idea. He stood at the top of the trail and yelled, "I'm the king of the world!"
B— knows and understands his challenges.
He knows what he can do.
He has no idea what autism is or that the label even applies.
This is who my son is.