Merry Christmas Eve ❤️

Autism has this way of showing us what matters.

Good morning friends! It’s Christmas Eve!

This morning something beautiful happened in my little, loud, messy, world.

I have four kids and often it feels like life is flying directly at me a hundred miles an hour. While dodging metors.

And I do my very best to slow it down. Consciously.

Cartoons in the morning.

Toddlers on my lap.

Hikes in the woods.

Coloring.

Popcorn and a movie.

Snuggles before bed.

It helps me. These moments that seem to strip away the chaos.

This morning I was sitting on the couch with my two youngest. One on my lap. One next to me. They had the wiggles. Our dog was eating a sock. My daughter wanted my phone. I couldn’t get the coffee into my mouth fast enough.

It was a lot. I was a little bit angry too.

Changed Christmas plans last minute. A cord missing for a fondu pot. Red sharpie marker on the white carpet.

That’s when Cooper danced into the room.

A song was blaring on his ipad, the screen up to his ear.

His feet danced. So did his hands.

I resisted the urge to say turn it down.

He paused right in front of me. Lowered his face to mine our noses practically touching.

And he smiled.

He pointed to his shirt and pants.

See, he dressed himself. And that’s a huge deal here. He didn’t seem to mind that his clothes were on inside out and backwards. I didn’t mind either. Because he did it!

Then he hugged me. A huge one. With both arms. And even kissed my cheek. Only kissing is hard for him. The pucker. The air. So he put his lips to my cheek and blew out as hard as he could.

Then clapped.

I can count on one hand the number of times he has hugged and kissed me unprompted.

He is 14 years old. And he has autism.

His diagnosis is complicated and confusing and woven through him in this mysterious way that I long to understand.

Autism has a way of stripping things away until we reach the lowest common denominator.

He shows me what matters. What’s real. The gifts.

He shows me the good in the world. And pulls the veil back on the bad too.

And he has a way of solidifying memories. He isolates them so I will never forget.

On Christmas Eve 2024, at fourteen years old, my son hugged and kissed me.

It’s a gift.

I hope everyone has a wonderful day!

Merry Christmas Eve!