A couple of days ago, I met with a case manager from a local Autism support organization. He will be assigning therapists who will be coming into our home several days a week to work with George. The meeting was for me to get to know him and a bit about the organization, and also for him to learn about George (from me, George was not there) and discuss our goals for him.
One of the questions he asked me was about George's interests, so that they can use them to make the learning more interesting. I heard these words come out of my mouth, "He's a typical almost-six-year-old boy. He likes robots, space, dinosaurs, and being active." Typical. Somehow I never thought that word would be used in conjunction with George. And yet, he is. Typical. Just a boy. At the playground today, he played on a merry-go-round with another five-year-old boy. And no one looked at him funny. And no one asked me why he wasn't answering the rapid fire questions the other boy was hurtling at him. If anything, that boy seemed odd!
He will never be cured, he will always be different and have to work hard to keep up. But maybe, just maybe, that's more typical than I ever thought.