Dearest Little Person,
The last year has been challenging, in unexpected ways. But through it all, somehow, you’re still shining. I love that the glow from your life is different from those that surround you. I love that somehow, even though the words are few, you and I still have great conversations. I love the way you laugh when we both have the same idea at the same time. It’s a very particular kind of belly laugh – equal parts joy and wonder.
I think we’re done with all the assessments for now, just waiting for reports and an appointment and to see if they are going to give you a label or not. I’m ambivalent about that part. Because for all the observations and assessments, there are things in life that cannot be measured. You may not come out all that well on some of their little checklist boxes, but in the things that really count, you excel.
You have character. Determination. You don’t let a lack of understanding stop you. You watch and you listen and you work at it until you understand. You are a fierce little scientist. You have worked out the solutions to problems before I have managed to work out where the problem was. I blame the engineering genes.
You’re creative. Sure you don’t use words, but hey – I don’t mind. I’m your mother, I’m supposed to support you becoming you, not make you into a mini-me. You take photographs and then you change them. You draw, but you also design. And when you paint … I could watch you all day when you paint. The world fades away, and you always end up singing, and at the end there is always a story.
You share without being asked. Even when we don’t want you to. You want to fix everything so that everybody can be happy. You probably know more about sea creatures than I do. You’ve made me brush up on my bird-watching skills. You have me jumping in leaves and walking up muddy hills on cold winter days.
I just want you to know – I wouldn’t change anything about you. Not a single thing. Not one.