My name is Will Reis Miles, and I am a handful. Sometimes.
I am two years old, and I do not talk. But don't think I am not smart and that I don't know what you're up to.
I study things very closely. And because I am a studier, I think I can help you like I have helped mama and daddy.
You see, some doctors say I have this thing called Autism - which does not mean I am sick like I have a headache or a broken arm or rickets or that I will be throwing up on you any time soon. It just means that I look at people and cats and balls and wheels and door hinges and the other stuff differently than most people.
That's why I can help. I've taught mama and daddy to understand some pretty darned important stuff and, maybe even importanter, I've taught them some stuff about what's not really important after all.
I've helped teach them to separate the truly important from the merely urgent. Ask my dad - he's helping me write this stuff (even though I can type myself on the computer - except that shift key for things like parentheses - it baffles and frustrates me).
As I look back on my life, I see some basic things that will help you with your kid and maybe your cat or your dog or your business, too.
Over these next few weeks, I will give you a gift of some of the lessons I've learned over the years. Soon, I'll turn three, and who knows what I'll know by then, huh?
This might become a book someday soon that my daddy says will help raise money for research and treatment. This is our first step. My daddy says it should be called Big Stank Willie's Straight Poop. He calls me Big Stank Willie not because I stink (I tend to smell like apples and that blue shampoo we use), but because it makes him smile. Daddy says it'll be a short book. We don't have time for long books anymore - which is too bad - but life is too short to spend much time on the which-is-too-bads of the world.
See - there's your first lesson. Already. I told you I was smart.
You'll be lucky you met me, bub.