From Huffington Post Parents' Shawn Bean, Executive Editor, Parenting Early Years.
I'm trying to hold him, but he's squirming. The airport lounge is
packed with people, and I can feel all eyes on me: the dad who cannot
appease his toddler. Brandy sees me struggling, and comes up with a
quick fix. She flips over the stroller. She places Jackson next to it.
He begins to spin one of the wheels with his hand. He keeps spinning it.
Over and over and over. He's completely absorbed. I look at Brandy
quizzically. She shrugs.
Jackson was 3 years old at the time, and by all accounts -- from
mother's intuition to the experts' definition -- he was on the spectrum.
The behavioral psychologists saw what we saw, but were hesistant to
make an official diagnosis. His brain is still developing. So much can change in six months. So time passed. His clothes went from 4T to 5T.
Birthday candles were lit, blown out, and saved in the kitchen drawer.
By age 6, the appointments with the behavioral psychologists were over.
The autism books came off my wife's nightstand. Our tears were
redirected to other things like kindergarten graduations.
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