This morning you woke up with a smile. You helped me get you ready for school by trying to dress yourself, and while it was difficult, you tried.

At school, the other kids teased you and called you stupid, but you didn’t care. You looked up at them, smiled and then continued making your popsicle stick treasure chest.

After school on our way to the store, you told me you were thirsty and asked for juice. I was so proud of you because I know how difficult it is for you to express your needs. At the store, I could see the look of disgust in the eyes of other shoppers when you fell to the ground kicking and screaming, throwing a tantrum.

At the park you were smiling, laughing and screaming “whee” as I pushed you on the swing. And tonight after your bath, you climbed up on my lap, laid your head on my shoulder and went to sleep.

Today was a good day. Today was a good day because, for the better part of it, you broke free from autism’s grasp.

When people see you, they see the quiet shy kid who plays by himself. They do not understand that autism makes social interaction difficult. When people hear you babble unintelligibly, they think you are stupid. They do not understand that autism impairs language skills. When you fall to the ground in the store kicking and screaming throwing a tantrum, they think you are an ill-behaved child. They do not understand that autism makes you sensitive to various sensory input and that your tantrum was the only way you knew how to tell me that the store was too loud and too bright and you could no longer cope.

Do not worry about how these people see you. It is their problem, not yours. But at the same time, do not hold any ill will toward these people because they do not understand autism. They are ignorant to the things you go through on a daily basis. I want you to love them and treat them as you deserve to be loved and treated. And finally, when daddy yells, I want you to know that it’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s daddy’s fault for taking his frustration out on you and for this I’m sorry.

When I see you, I see the lovable boy with the beautiful big blue eyes who greets me every morning with a hug and a smile. I see the happy kid who runs around playing pirates with his little brother, looking for that hidden popsicle stick treasure chest that protects your booty. I see the brilliant child who is interested in space, the stars and the planets. I see the kid who tells me that he is going to be a space doctor and fly a rocket ship to Mars. When I see you, I see my son.

Autism is a part of who you are. It is a part of what makes you special and unique, but it does not and it will not define you. You are not stupid. You are not broken. You are perfect just the way you are.

Tonight, I make this promise to you. I promise to do everything in my power to help you permanently break free from autism’s grasp so that you can be that space doctor and fly your rocket ship to Mars. And if we can’t free you from autism’s grasp, that’s OK too because I will always love you and will always be proud of you just the way you are. You are my son and I love you.

As I sit here, I can’t help but wonder what challenges and triumphs we will encounter tomorrow. But then I look down at you, peacefully sleeping with your head on my shoulder, all those thoughts disappear and I say to myself, “who cares about tomorrow, tomorrow doesn’t matter. All that matters is today and today was a good day.”

By Robert Brant - Mr. Brant lives with his wife and two children in King County.