Emma ate a slice of pizza last night.
That sentence required some space. It needed to be written by itself with nothing else. For most of you, this may seem like an excuse-me-while-I-yawn moment. But for us, it was a DID-YOU-SEE-THAT-STOP-THE-CONVERSATION-EMMA-IS-EATING-PIZZA-FOR-THE-FIRST-TIME-SINCE-SHE-WAS-FOUR-YEARS-OLD moment. Please excuse me while I dance a little jig, do a little arm twirling while yelling woo-hoo, spin around, do a few jumps up and down and shout as loud as I can, “Oh yeah! Oh yeah!” And, I don’t know, this might be totally overdoing it, but what the hell, a fist bump, just for good measure.
Emma ate a slice of pizza last night.
While other parents are counting the years when they will no longer be required to sit down to one more meal in a pizza parlor, or wonder how they’re going to fit four large, now empty, cardboard boxes into their trash bin, we are rejoicing. This is HUGE. We had dinner with friends who have two boys about the same age as Nic and Emma. And there was pizza. And then suddenly there was Emma happily digging in as though this was a food she eats all the time. As though nothing extraordinary was going on at all. As though sitting at the dinner table with a group of other kids eating what they were eating happens all the time. I will end this now, because really there’s nothing more I can say.
I was planning to write a whole post about comments and commenting, but I’ll have to save that for tomorrow. This was just too good to pass up. Joe said, “Did you take a photo?” But I was so excited, I forgot, so you’ll just have to trust me.
Emma ate a slice of pizza.
For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to: Emma’s Hope Book