Christmas Carols

Earlier this morning, we brought our son Matt to his school's Christmas presentation. I was a bit worried as I stood backstage with him. He was fidgeting, as the noise and chaos was getting to him. It was noisy and people in colorful costumes were running around. It was sensory overload for him. I worried normal people wouldn't understand if he "misbehaved". I held his small hand in mine as long as I could. As one of the teachers led the kids to the stage area, I held my breathe.

I saw the teacher lead Matt to the open area beneath the front of the stage. There were too many kids to fit into the small elevated stage. As the teacher (my son's favorite, actually) climbed up the stage, I saw my son running in a panic and then bolting to climb to the stage. I almost ran to him. I told myself, if no one steps in to guide him, I'll do it myself. Good thing another teacher saw him and guided him to an open spot on the stage. She was patient enough to talk to him to get him to stay on the same spot. The music came on and they began to sing. Matthew sang along.

After the performance, the teachers marched the children down the stage and Matt was one of the first. I gladly took his hand as one of the teacher guide him over to where I was. I breathed a sigh of relief, the ordeal was over. My son had coped and made his mother proud.

The thing that gets me is for parents of children with autism, simple milestones like these are special. It doesn't take much to make us happy or proud of our children. Small steps make the biggest impressions on us. Things that normal parents with normal kids most likely just ignore, we treasure. It's both a blessing and a cross to bear. These contradictions will never see light in the perspective of regular people.