Many years ago, when a doctor confirmed that my son is autistic, there was little I knew for sure. But I was certain of this: Daniel was the same child he was before the identification.
He was smart as a whip, gentle, patient, kind, and already, as a small child, a thoughtful and attentive listener. Oh — and he was a ham from the get-go, developing a love affair with the microphone at age 2 that seeded his public speaking career.
For me, the name — it was Asperger’s at the time, now ASD level 1 — held hope of new ideas for helping him with the things he found difficult and begged for help with: social understanding, anxiety, sleep difficulties, executive functioning, sensory and motor challenges among these.
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