Z-Y-X-W-V-U...

Today my wife observed C reciting the alphabet...backward. He would say a letter, scrunch up his face as he thought earnestly about what was next, and then happily announce it before proceeding to the next one.

We've never taught him the alphabet backward, and I have no idea why he felt the need to try it. Just part of his love of letters, I guess.

And, while one therapist has lightly cautioned us about overly encouraging his obsession with letters and numbers, it's exciting to see him tackling such complex problems, focusing on them with such intent, and taking great pride in showing us his achievement.

He Does Love You

In the bath tonight, M said that C doesn't love him. When asked why he thought that, M said, simply, "Because he doesn't say it." And now it gets tough. You see, it's obvious to us how much C loves his brother, but this is one of those simple, human things C just can't do on his own. Sure, if we script it, he'll say it, but it's not spontaneous, and now even M is starting to notice.

And so the conversations begin: "M, your brother does love you, he just needs help saying it." Because M is a bright and empathic boy, I trust that he'll understand.

Out for a Stroll

C is untethered from his oxygen for a stroll in the brisk weather. What is a little unusual here is that C was leading the way; usually it's the other way around.

Jump

When C was first diagnosed with ASD, a friend who has faced the same challenge told me that I would come to appreciate the littlest accomplishments just as though they were gigantic.

Yesterday, C was jumping on a trampoline, feet flying above the elastic surface. To most parents of a three-year-old, this would be a pleasant experience, but to me it was a victory worthy of celebration.

You see, C couldn't jump. Not at all. He would crouch and push, but he could never get air; this is not uncommon in ASD kids. No matter how he tried, how much we cheered him on, he just couldn't do it.

But with time and therapy and lots of practice, C now jumps, and he counts each jump, up to 30. Then he starts over again. He is joyful.

My friend was right: the small victories have come to mean just as much as the big ones.

Good Times

C has been a bit of a ping pong ball lately, one day doing quite well, the next seeming hard to reach and engaging in a lot of typical ASD-behaviors. Nonetheless, I wanted to take a moment to post some photos that make me smile, images that show promise.