The tortoise and the hare.
When I was young, this was one of my least favorite stories. I hated reading about the tortoise and the hare, because the dashing, beautiful hare never won. He was faster, he was (in my young opinion!) more intelligent, and in general, deserved to win. But noooo, the little tortoise always came up from behind, and while my boy hare was nibbling on a stalk of hay, checking out the clouds, tortoise plodded over the finish line.
I have a son on the autism spectrum. He is 3. He has a few words, a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile, sly brown eyes, and a generous personality. He loves his 1 yr old sister totally…shares toys and snacks and joy with her. She is his “sweetie pie,” his “sissy,” his “baby sissy.”
He is my tortoise.
The story feels very different to me this time around. The hare, he’s okay, but he doesn’t need anyone rooting for him, you know? He can take care of himself, and live to win another race in some other story. But my little tortoise? He needs me. And he needs his sister and dad and anyone else who is able and willing to be a part of our life. And there are many out there…I just have to get up the courage to let them in, and let them support me.
And knowing how the story goes, my little guy will cross the finish line.
And I will bring you along on the journey.