All I Want for Christmas

"That's Michael*. He's waiting for his mom," he tells me matter-of-factly, as he climbs into the van and unloads his backpack and coat. My heart leaps into my throat. Tears sting my eyes.

"Oh really?" I say, hiding my excitement and suppressing the desire to call his father, grandmothers, several close friends, and maybe a few strangers.

At five years of age, such a statement normally wouldn't be that big of a deal. My two year-old already says things of a similar nature. No, it wouldn't be that big of a deal...if not for the autism.

He is very verbal, meaning he uses many words -- big words, often -- and speaks in a manner far advanced for his age. It would not be unusual to have a discussion about white blood cells, the Ring of Fire -- think volcanoes, not Johnny Cash -- or the eating habits of bats. But noticing another child, being aware of what that child is doing, AND knowing and using that child's name? This is a first.

It is one of many firsts we have been experiencing lately. The big influence, we believe, is his new school program. Just over a month ago we enrolled him in a specialized preschool program designed solely for children with autism. The results have simply been amazing for me to watch. He bounds out the door each day, with stuffed animal in hand, and bounds right back in again 5 hours later, full of random, though often delayed, statements that I never would have dreamed possible two months ago. He is learning his letters and numbers, slowly but with determination. He follows instructions at school -- relative to before. He sings songs at school. And he shares the songs with me, suddenly, on a whim as we drive around town.

Like every normal parent, I took advantage of every opportunity to teach him all of these things, with essentially no success. After five years of feeling like a failure, I am learning that I really don't care anymore. As long as he is progressing, I don't care if it takes five more years for him to learn to write his name forwards instead of backwards. These simple, little steps, these moments that just happen out of the blue when you thought they would never happen, they have taught me that all I want -- for Christmas and otherwise -- is for my son to be whole. In whatever form that may be. I don't mean "cured" -- that's a post for another day -- I just mean growing and learning. And while he does that, I will too.

*Name changed