He doesn’t comment on my photos telling me how “gorgeous” or “hot” I am to him, and I don’t get the “I love you too, baby’s” whenever I post something admiring him.
"He recognized me just as much as I had recognized him. With an outstretched hand, his eyes filled up with gentle tears as he handed me three fresh bills wrapped in my crinkled business card.”
"By this time I was crying and having a moment, not because I was embarrassed that my son is autistic, but because he is a good kid and I didn't want anyone to think he was just a spoiled kid being a brat.”
