Over the years I’ve had the privilege of meeting many parents with children who are somewhere on the spectrum. And in that time, I have had a fair few conversations with them where I had agreed that, indeed, Elliot appeared to have many traits in common with their child but that was more down to his rather quirky personality rather than the fact that his brain was wired differently. You would have thought, being relatively more informed than the average human being about a vast array of conditions and syndromes that my brain would have been screaming at me to suspect that perhaps it was more than a coincidence. Apparently my conscious brain was out for a long lunch though.
I am the proud mother of a disabled child. But I am also the proud mother of two able-bodied children (or whatever generally accepted pc definition you wish to categorise them as). One is serious and smart and capable of an extraordinary ability to love and an even more extraordinary ability to survive on very little sleep. The other skips and pirouettes through life managing to juggle frivolity with a deep and sensitive understanding of other people’s emotional complexities, and just happens to have the fartiest bottom of anyone I have ever met. These two are the unsung heroes, the forgotten siblings in the special needs world.