He snuggles in closer, smelling of baby shampoo with a hint of something sweet mixed in. His head still fits perfectly on my shoulder, warm and precious as we read "The Polar Express" for the millionth wonderful time. As I begin to turn the page that will lead the protagonist to the train, he puts his hand on mine and says, "Mom, religion doesn't matter to Santa Claus. Everyone who's good should get a gift."
Amen to that.
I have no doubt the magic of Santa will prevail in the our household, and my boys are both confident they’ve behaved this year and that Santa will reward their efforts. I know this from my son Zachary’s coveted words and, equally definitive, from the priceless nod of my nonverbal son Justin’s head when asked if he’s getting presents this year. The fact that both of my autistic boys can communicate is a gift in and of itself, one I never take for granted.
And yet, if I'm honest, there are so many more gifts autism has brought us.
Ten years ago if someone had mentioned "autism's gifts" to me, I would have rolled my eyes and probably detailed our daily existence to that individual, an itinerary of Justin's day replete wiht insomnia, reflux, aggression, a complete inability to communicate and many other issues related to his disorder. I would definitely have looked heavenward once again seven years ago as we watched our second son Zachary regress, losing his words, his love of life and quite honestly, the very light from his eyes. Gifts were not forefront in my mind when thinking about the impact autism had on our family.