For those of us that don’t have kids, this book is a stark and very uncomfortable reminder of what might happen if we do. I’ve made myself clear over the years that I absolutely positively have no desire nor intention whatsoever to breed; and while some of you lovely-obsessed-neurotic parents—too redundant or just right?—out there may already be feeling the rage flush through your veins up from that gigantic overly-worked muscle in your chest, making your face hot with the fury of a thousand blue supergiants—chill. Some of us aren’t made to be parents. I can still feel those of you—exhausted, emotionally drained, frenzied with protection and so much love—bubbling under the surface. Fear not, I recognize your sacrifice; I accept and appreciate your parenting zeal and would give each of you the biggest fucking participation trophy ever for simply attempting to raise a mini-me in this apocalyptic environment. Seriously. You, as a parent, have my utmost respect and admiration. What you do is important. How you raise your little mini-me will have an impact on the world and everyone in it. Your little mini-me could become a president or senator and strip every parent of the vital tools necessary to raise your little mini-mes while subjugating everyone to their autocratic and corrupt injustices and amoralities. Yeah, think about that. Scary thought, eh?
Anyhoo, take everything I said about old-fashioned regular parents above and times it by a thousand and that’s how I feel about the parents of autistic children. I have no experience or education of it; I’m just another know-nothing reading a book to gain some insight and knowledge and this book sure does it. It makes a person feel every kind of emotion and then some. It is brutally honest and at many points so very awkward that I looked around my room to see if anyone was looking at how awkward I felt; I was alone. You won’t find the technical knowledge of autism in this book, but you will find the emotion and sacrifice it takes to raise a child with autism up to and including the constant thought of who will take care of their adult-child after they’re gone as in d-e-a-d. This book doesn’t wrap you in bubble wrap and drop you lightly in a cushiony box; it drops you naked into the middle of a briar maze and you have to find your own way and that must be how it feels to be the parent of an autistic child.