If you have been lucky enough to love a person who lives with autism, you already know the thing no one warns you about. It is not the hard parts. They warn you about those early and often. It is the joy. At the start they hand you the pamphlets and the waitlists and the words. Delay. Deficit. Disorder. They describe your child as a list of things that did not arrive on schedule, and no one in that room ever thinks to mention that you are about to meet the happiest person you
