My son often comes to me and—with the strong eye contact that helped delay his autism diagnosis all those years ago—quietly urges me to read his mind. He seems to almost hold his breath, waiting for me to prompt him, to help him say what he needs to say.
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My son often comes to me and—with the strong eye contact that helped delay his autism diagnosis all those years ago—quietly urges me to read his mind. He seems to almost hold his breath, waiting for me to prompt him, to help him say what he needs to say.