We sway in slight staccato, my boy’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist, his left cheek flush with my right. We hold each other close as we do every morning, our sacred ritual, our own unique way of welcoming the day.
I recall the websites lamenting lack of eye contact, and smile as I think about the gourgeous gaze he bestows on his mom, dad, brother and anyone in his inner circle.
I remember how the internet implied he’d never be affectionate, and chuckle as his arms wrap even tighter around my torso.
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I think back to dire warnings of constant meltdowns for life, and while we dwelled there for a while, now my boy greets each day with unmitigated joy.
I recall that nowhere on the website did anyone mention how rewarding it would be to watch him achieve even minor milestones, how meeting him where he is, not where any books or child specialists think he should be, is a reward in itself.
He pulls back to bestow a kiss upon me delivered with his signature grin, his way of letting me know all is right with his world. We start the slow shuffle to begin the day, and for the thousandth time I am grateful for this boy, his laughter, his life, his love.
Grateful for the ability to meet him where he is.
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