"He is a light. Like the biggest light. Yeah his brain needs help with making certain connections. Yeah he's totally strange. Yeah he's having some difficulty in a few areas. But his light is so bright. And none of that other stuff changes who he is or makes him less than awesome." This is what came out of my mouth during a recent conversation the husband and I were having about Mr. Pants. We have them from time to time. The worry starts to set in about the impending diagnosis and we start to let fear creep in that our amazing little kid will have a hard life or that other kids may not understand him or that he will regress at some point. I've talked before about my line in the sand. And it's still there. It gets a little mussed at times, but I am still redrawing it. It gets mussed when I see other traits of autism pop up. He's lining stuff up now and the spinning in circles has ramped up a bit too. He still doesn't understand anger in people. He thinks it's funny. He really doesn't get it. When I need to discipline him I must keep an even tone, even if he is doing something crazy dangerous. Because If I yell, he thinks I'm being funny or silly and keeps doing whatever it is that he shouldn't be doing. There was one time that me shouting to him actually stopped him but I know that is because the sounds that I made trying to stop him from plummeting into a creek, confused him long enough to distract him from what he had been doing and he changed coarse. He hadn't heard that come from me before (I probably sounded like a stampeding wild animal. That's my best guess). But while these things can scare me a bit, he is also doing things that are really encouraging. Like immitaing us, pointing out a few things in picture books, pointing to a few of his body parts and going to his baby sister when she cries.

The other day I watched as he tried to explain to Plum in his language that, while he did not want her to be sad, he simply was not going to be giving her his beloved singing toy. Then he walked away. And she started to cry. So he went back to tell her again (and he even has a special tone of voice just for her. And yes it completely slays me). She'd smile, he'd smile. Then he'd walk away. And she'd cry again. So he went back to try and explain it better. She listened and giggled as though she understood him (maybe she is the only one who does?) This went on for about six cycles and I just watched. In the end, Mr. Pants sat down next to her to play with his toy. Score one for Plum! She appealed to his heart as if to say please don't leave me, brother. Please stay. And the best part is that eventually he did. He stayed. In his way, he showed her love. He stayed. When I see things like this I think to myself, "No WAY he is on the autism spectrum. No. Way."  But sure enough that thought is soon replaced by, "Well, yeah. He probably is" when I see him deep into spinning the wheels on his trucks. So in that zone that he can not be made to come back for a bit. He's checked out. Then he lines them all up until they are perfect, spins for a bit, side-eyes all through the house and I have to coax him back so that he returns to me ready to re-enter the day. I wonder is it possible to have autism only 1/2 the time? All the experts say no. But that's what I see. With the exception of language, he is typical fifty percent of the time and not so typical the other fifty. Who knows what that will actually mean for him. I like to think that it means when he becomes an adult, he will be a ginormous genius at work and a typical loving family man at home. A mama can dream right?

Daddy and I talk about it a lot. We have both gone through some feelings of guilt (don't we parents always find a way to blame ourselves?), sadness, anger and fear. But we always get back to laughing. Tonight it was a story I told him about how when the aunties stopped by for a visit today. Mr. Pants was naked except for two socks and one boot. He engaged with his aunties and talked up a storm in Pantsenese. I told Daddy about how Auntie S was sitting on the couch with her drink on the floor. Mr. Pants sitting next to her. He placed his bubba on the floor just like her. When she lifted hers for a drink, he lifted his. Repeat. It was the cutest. It was interaction with an adult. It was a big awesome thing. But the funniest stuff hapened when he started showing off. Jumping and kicking and jumping as if to say "look what I can do!"  like Stuart from Mad TV. Man he was cracking us up. And was loving making us laugh. He was eating it up. And that's how our conversation about our fears turned to laughter and happiness about the amazingness of our boy. He is a light. Plain as that. Such a light. Every single day he does something that makes me stop and revel in the fact that he is mine (and it usually comes right after he does something that makes me want to pull my hair out. Typical kid.) So again, that line is holding firm. He will be ok.

I got a call two days ago from one of the specialists at Children's Hospital that did the testing on lil dude. She said that the reports were in except for one part and that the one doctor who needed to add the last part was on her honeymoon. We'd have to wait until she added her piece before they could send me the full report. Oh holy hell. I answered the phone excited that they were calling because dang do I hate to wait. And they tell me that I have to wait up to two more weeks. I asked her if she could give me an idea of what would be in the report and she said that I needed to read the whole thing. So um, yeah. That sucks. But just as I was getting super anxious and pissy because I had to wait, Mr Pants sauntered his naked butt up to me and layed across my lap. He started to rub the fabric of my pants between his fingers. He had been zoned out for a bit and was bringing himself back to me. In doing that he brought me back. I let myself be present with him and he with me. At that moment, he came and brought me what I needed. I needed him. And he was there. He's got some pretty great timing sometimes. So we will wait. It's ok. I've got what I need already. I've got my boy.