He is 18.
He is obsessed with football and can remember games and plays to the minute details.
He obsesses over each game that is televised.
He is not necessarily a critical thinker, but that's okay.
He is training to be a luthier.
He loves his mother.
He hates cancer and is worried terribly for his mother.
He loves order but only his order.
He wants to be a country music star.
He is still searching for that best friend.
He is socially awkward and struggles still with new social settings.
He loves his halmoni and grabs onto her hand several times during mass.
He taught his mother that outside of the box parenting is perfectly fine.
He taught his mother that not everyone has to follow the college path thus paving the way for his dancing sister.
He is my son.
He has autism.
This is the face of autism. Every day in my house is Autism Awareness Day.