This time of year is breathtaking. .
The weather, the people, the gratitude and spirit.
The snow is falling outside my window as I type and I’m dazzled by it’s unexpected beauty.

Our son Beckett is officially on Holiday break, and I am now attempting to wrap my mind around how we are about to slide right into yet another year.
Another year of challenges.
Another year of learning.
Another year of amazing, and unexpected, and grateful.

And this week, I am a one woman, extra large crud storm, emotional rollercoaster, with a side of fries.

I pulled up to Beckett’s school as his final day of Kindergarten in 2020 has ended, and my eyes locked with his Para Educator.
They walked my way, hand-in-hand, as they do every day, but this day was just a touch different.

Resting on Beckett’s head was the most adorable crafted reindeer hat.
Lovingly taped, and stapled, and glued together with assistance from his para, and teacher.

You see, my Beckett, my beautiful, full of life little boy is autistic.

For his little 5 year-old body, it can often times be too much change, or sensory stimulation to tolerate wearing things like hats, gloves, or even just certain kinds of pants, some days.

So this mama is tearing up.
Nope… I’m crying. The big ol’ ugly kind.

My boy was wearing a craft that he patiently made in school… on his head… with the biggest smile on his face.

He skipped over to me like he does daily when I arrive (best part of my day I tell you), and hugged me tight.
The little red paper nose, rubbing against my shirt.

On the short drive home, I thought about the growth that we have been blessed to see in our sweet boy over the last couple of years; And what’s more, the growth in people around him.

We moved into a new home, in a new district in the last couple of years, and the change is immeasurable.
Of course much of this comes with Beckett getting older and becoming more accepting, but the intensity of his new found learning team is remarkable.

At this same time two years ago now, in a different school setting, children were preparing for holiday school programs; musicals.
And my son, being autistic and nonverbal, was not included.

He was not asked to come and dance, or sway, or be there simply to be included with his classmates, but instead, we were asked not to bring him.
It was said that his presence would cause too much of a disturbance to their other children/families.

I can tell you right now, that that is the first and most difficult experience of blatant exclusion that we have had to go through, as a family.
I still see red, and cry, and want to be sick when I let myself “go there” and revisit that phone call.

Does this look like the face of a child that wishes to be cast aside?
To be excluded or kept at home?
Not a chance.


So it may have “just” been a paper reindeer hat this day, to some.
It may have “just” been paper gingerbread men, colored outside the lines, to others.
But to us, it is inclusivity, and pride. It is patience, kindness, and heart, and love.
And those are the things that fill up our cup around here.