It hit me tonight, I am soooo lucky. My boy, he’s a hugger. When he is scared, when he is happy. When he is tired, when he is bouncing off the walls. He wants a hug.
He is such a hugger that we (his behavioralist and I) had to work on it a lot to get him to STOP hugging people. Like that random, Santa bellied man with the Ironman shirt on in Smart and Final.
“Steve, honey, did you ask that nice man if he WANTED you in his personal space?” I would ask as I am peeling Steve off the poor unsuspecting man.
“Steve, we talked about stranger danger, remember?”
And with those gorgeous blue eyes he’d look at me and say, “but, I LOVE Ironman and that man clearly does too so he needed to know he wasn’t alone.”
What was that about autistics not having empathy?
Well for me, I love my Steve hugs and tonight, I got a giant one with a kiss and I didn’t even have to ask.
Photo is of Brooklyn getting a happy birthday hug from Steve. Clearly she likes it as much as he does.