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I can count on one hand the number of times my son has initiated a hug with me. While I hug and kiss him as many times as he will let me, always have and always will, he isn’t one to give them out freely. He’s quite choosy. And even if I request one, he typically does this thing where he leans in, shoulder first, and sorta falls into me. But over the years, I’ve gotten a few. With arms. And a squeeze. And so much love. I remember each…

Kid, I spend a lot of time thinking about the things you cannot tell me. There are little things. Like why you point to certain clouds or put your ear up to the wind and laugh. There are big things too. Like why you hit your head in frustration. Does it hurt? Do you hear something I cannot? I wonder why you like trains so much. I wonder why you carry the DVD cases but don’t watch the movies. I wonder if you are lonely. I wonder if you get…

My son Cooper, Last night was one of those special nights. I was outside in the backyard pushing your younger siblings on the swings when I heard you come outside. Slow at first. You wandered to a deck chair and sat down. Then to the stairs leading down the deck. I think you found a fly. It must have landed on you because I heard you gasp and giggle than shake your hand to the sky and point. You wandered some more. Never in a straight line. In fact I…

You think the big things are the most important. The ones that will make the most impact. I used too. Speaking. Joining a group or team. Driving a car. Graduating. First job, first love, first house. Those are the milestones we work towards. Right? And yes, of course they are important. But as I grow into being the best mom for my autistic son, and watch him grow into himself, I realize it’s the little things that make the biggest difference in our world. That make the most impact on…

This morning my son Cooper had his first day of 7th grade. He was ready early. I dressed him. I packed his lunch. I put his speech device in his bag. And I wrote his name on his things. He posed for a picture in front of the fireplace holding two train guidebooks and a whiteboard full of his dreams. When the bus pulled up, he gasped. He waved goodbye to me as his dad led him hand-in-hand to the bus. I cried. I cried for his vulnerability. I cried…

‘I’m sorry I’m crying…this is so unlike me. This has just never happened before.’ Those were the words I said to a fellow mom today. I didn’t know her. I just knew it was her children on the raft that my son Cooper was swimming out too. It took me a second to catch my breath. My sunglasses hiding my tears. Then I said… ‘My son. His name is Cooper. He is swimming out to play with your boys. Your husband invited him but he didn’t respond. See he’s autistic…

‘Mom! Did you know that my brother doesn’t talk?’ I’ll be honest when he said it to me I burst out laughing. It caught me off guard. The innocence of it. He had just come up from downstairs. Four years old. Spikey blonde hair. A dimple on his left cheek. A red and blue Spiderman costume a size too small. The younger brother to an older brother with nonverbal autism. ‘For real mom! I was just with Cooper for SO LONG and he didn’t say one word! Did ya know?…

My son Cooper doesn’t have a lot to say verbally. But he’s always communicating. Sometimes it’s a point or a wave. A sound. A facial expression. A click of a button. A stomp of a foot. He’s always listening too. He hears everything. In fact he’s incredibly nosey. He nods sometimes. Or smiles at something we’ve said. Or even scowls. He waves to everybody. And if he really likes you, you will get the nuggets hug. He raises a finger in the air for yes. A fist in the air…