On Monday, David brought home an essay, written by a friend in class - a little girl named Faith. According to his teacher, all the children had to write about a friend, and she chose David.
I can't post the whole note because it uses David's real name, but here's a pic excerpt:
The note in it's entirety reads:
David my friend.
David plays with me. David is nice and he is cool. He is a good singer and a nice friend.
When I get nerves he is there to make me stop being nerves and scard. i love my bes friend David.
This is my kid she's talking about. My son. My son with autism who all the textbooks say shouldn't have an ounce of empathy in him and social interactions should be his personal kryptonite.
And they're wrong. Not all the time. I can't say those statements aren't true sometimes, and in certain situations. But not all the time. And in the not-all-the-time, that's when David comes shining through.
My David. My lovable, sensitive, heart-of-gold David who cares about his friends and will do anything to make you laugh or cheer you up if you're looking sad. My David who didn't say "I love you" until he was four but has made up for it by saying it frequently and with great gusto ever since.
My David is somebody else's safe place.
Autastic - definitely.
And I'm just lucky enough to be the mother of this amazing child.