Today, I was walking my son to school and we met up with a little girl from his class. She kissed her mum goodbye after crossing the last road and we walked up to the school gate together (I have a handover with a teacher for my autistic son, but other children enter the school by themselves.) My son skipped on ahead and the girl turned to me and said, “Your son is very weird sometimes.”
I am an autistic person (and yes, folks, this is the preferred way to express it rather than a “person with autism”). My son is an autistic person. It gives us a different world view and life experiences and the real reason I want to write about autistic people as my main characters is that I want to celebrate what it is to be autistic.