While feeding the goats (enjoying a few minute's respite from the pouring rain), we ran into someone I'd met a year ago at my moms of autism support group, there with her eight-year-old son. We'd been wanting to schedule a date to get our families to connect for almost the whole year. We were just discussing how to convince the kids we wanted to stick together, when they announced they were going on the rides (in the rain).
Between moments of catching up, I snapped photos of our kids screaming and laughing on the swings and coasters (I'm sure they were hamming it up for the camera). I learned that her son has some of the same challenges as G, and some strengths that G does not. As we walked from one ride to the other, G entertained him by sticking her hand through every recycling bin.
|I wanna hold your hand...|
"She's being goofy, and he's laughing: that's a good sign," the other mom whispered.
We stayed together for the rest of the morning. "I'm lucky I get to do this because of my autism," Mr. Nice-guy said as we walked into the lunch area. Sitting on the picnic table with their hotdogs and chips, G bent down and planted a kiss on Mr. N's sleeve. He didn't flinch, even when she got embarrassed and washed the kiss off with her freshly licked fingers.
At supper, my husband asked G about her day at the Ex. When she mentioned her new friend, her eyes sparkled.
One of the hardest things for me as I look into the future is wondering if G will be able to live independently, make healthy relationships, be happy, or raise a family. Meeting Mr. Nice-guy was a boost in my discouraging, assessment report-burdened week. Even if his parents someday reject my proposal of an arranged marriage, knowing there are sweet boys like him on the spectrum gives me hope.