I probably spend an unhealthy amount of time worrying about my first born.
After many agonizing years and withstanding the judgement of family and friends alike, I still have to softly explain he is not autistic, at least they won't call it that yet. Instead he has the all inclusive title of "development delay", which is as vague and frustrating as it sounds and comes with nine different kinds of therapy all in an attempt to get him "back on track."
Anyone who tells you kids just develop on their own is selling some horseshit. Once they miss a couple of developmental markers the dominoes start to fall. I know my son is different, he has difficulty speaking, often shrieks loudly for no apparent reason while playing, is fighting all attempts at toilet training like we dipped his hand in battery acid, and is extremely clumsy. In comparison, his one year old brother, half his size, has already caught up and passed him in some areas. The Freak to his Max, the little guy runs circles around him, knows just how to push his buttons, and I think is already starting to grasp sarcasm.
And while it's terrifying, faced with the difference between them everyday, wondering how he will grow up, I sometimes get a glimpse of something, a moment that lets me know: He is going to be okay.
He learned how to kiss and hug us long ago, but just started giving his brother kisses last week. His dinosaurs have a special place of honor, set up like soldiers on his bed rail to guard him while he sleeps. Sometimes I catch him trying to feed graham crackers to his stuffed animals, especially cookie monster. That little bugger loves cookies, and my son knows it.
I still worry mountains down to sand. There is a long, rough, path for him ahead, but he's got love and compassion in him, and a little brother who runs circles around him. Yup, definitely Okay.
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