Isabella didn’t want to go to school this morning. This is not a common occurrence so I played it down by not mentioning it for a while.
When it was time to get dressed, she fought me a bit as she loves her bathrobe and doesn’t want to take it off. Slippers are big in her world, too. Once it was time to go, all was well with the world…
…until it was time to go into the classroom. Blessedly, the pre-school autism class has its own outside entrance. Bells stood there not going to go in. Her teacher said, “Don’t you want to see your friend, L?” In she went!
Next, M didn’t want to go in. “Don’t you want to play with the train, M?” asked one of the wonderful aides. “Train!” he repeated as he ran into the classroom with a big smile on his face.
M’s dad and I smiled broadly at how his son and my granddaughter responded so well. His son had barely any speech before he started school and Isabella had little discernible speech. We rejoice together in the progress of our beloved “special” ones.
The more I read the comments of parents and loved ones of people with autism the greater a bond I feel with them. No one else understands our hopes and fears; our heartbreak and joys; our feelings of failure and of triumph. It is a kinship.
I do believe that very few of us would refuse a cure for autism. Some might but I know I would jump at it if it wasn’t dangerous to my Isabella. Would I love her more? How could I. Would I love her less? I don’t believe that could ever happen.
I still laugh nearly every day I am with Bells. We are blessed that she is not inside of herself all of the time but able to take part in every day tasks such as “helping” me in the kitchen and picking up after herself.
What would my life be like without her? I don’t ever want to find out. Thank you God for my little Boo.