My firstborn. The one who officially made me a mother. He doesn't feature on here a lot because he's at that age. The teenage years. Where you disappear into your room and turn your music up way too loud and only come out for meals and occasionally to ask for a lift somewhere. He's permanently connected to the internet, and has unnaturally stumpy thumbs due to incessantly texting his mates. He likes Greenday, Linkin Park and Breaking Benjamin. He listens to jazz while he does his homework. I know, 'cos you can hear it all over my house. He gets impatient with his little brother and rolls his eyes when I ask him to mow the lawn.
He wants to run a boarding kennel when he finishes school. He's big into animals.
He's also autistic. Which used to be the first thing I thought about whenever I thought about him. Or looked at him. Or worried about what was going to happen to him.
Now when I look at him, I think about learners permits, part time jobs and girlfriends. Because those are the things that are uppermost in his mind. Autism has never been first on his list. It's just something that's stuffed in there with everything else. Like spare change in your pocket. You just carry it around with you, and sometimes you forget you even have it.
I am in awe of my son. He is growing into the kind of man that leaves a positive impact with every step he takes. He is my Pride and Joy. I love you, Kit.