So typical; so beautiful

Nick and I were early. Noah's after-school science club meeting was still in session, so Nick and I made our way over to the playground. He climbed up on the play structure, then ran back and forth across the bridge in joy.

A couple of little girls came over and climbed up the steps to the slide then slipped down.

Nick watched them from the bridge and laughed. "Slide down!" he said and went over to join the girls in their play. The three of them slid down the slide, time and time again, and sometimes Nick would get so excited about sliding that sometimes he forgot to wait, sliding into the girl in front of him, laughing all the way.

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Such an unnotable, typical day at the playground for just about any parent. Any parent, that is, except for an autism mom. I watched my child play and wanted to call every single person in my cell phone to scream out my excitement.

You see, six months ago, Nick would not have even noticed the girls. Six months ago, Nick would not have been able to say "slide down." Six months ago, Nick would have never gone over to other kids and joined them in their play.

It's the most average, typical things that are the most precious; they are the things I celebrate, the things that make me cry.