Ramblings and Raindrops 

As I write , I am in the car, raindrops pattering against the roof. I’m waiting to fetch Little Person from school. My trousers are wet because I dashed home, walked the dog in the rain and dashed out again. So now I am cold and the cars are whizzing by and the gentle sloshing of the rain makes me need the loo.

It’s been a busy week. I wanted to write – plenty enough has happened that I need to reflect on – but time has run away. And so I sit here in the car, waiting and writing and debating whether I need to go and ask to use the school staff toilet. 

This time last year I was writing about living with the shiny new autism label. the year before I was writing about how Little Person might or might not have special needs. I feel like I should mark the anniversary somehow by writing something along similar lines.

But I don’t feel like it. And I don’t know what to write. Sometimes her autism is like a million tiny raindrops. Sometimes it makes rainbows. Sometimes it makes you need the loo. Trapped in the middle of it, you can’t see clearly, and it’s cold and miserable but the dog doesn’t mind. You have to keep going. You have to know that somehow, raindrops aren’t just raindrops .  They can be growth and beauty and joy in the simple things.

Walking in the rain is fine if you have the right equipment. 

The truth is, Little Person seems to be doing so well when she’s out and about – all smiles at school and trying new things. But then she gets home and it’s like she discovers her wellies are all full of water and she tips them all on the carpet.

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