Tag Archives: AutCom Conference

“Barb Doesn’t Talk” ~ Emma

Posted on April 10, 2014 by | 35 comments

I have a friend who, when they met over a year ago, Emma observed, “Barb doesn’t talk“.  “Doesn’t talk” means she doesn’t talk with her mouth to communicate the way she can and does when writing.  Her name is Barb Rentenbach and she and her therapist, Lois Prislovsky wrote a book, I Might Be You.  I’ve written about Barb and Lois before, ‘here‘, ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘.  If you haven’t read their book, you must.  (Continue reading for a surprise later in this post about that book.)

I met Barb at the Autcom Conference in 2012 and though I didn’t know it at the time, Barb and Lois  would have an enormous impact on me that was far-reaching.  You see, it was because of Larry Bissonnette, Tracy Thresher, a boy I saw writing to communicate, and finally Barb, all of whom I met at the Autcom Conference, that I began looking into other ways for my daughter to communicate.  (You can read more about the process by clicking “How We Got Here“.)  Even though Emma can and does use her voice to speak, she has described her attempts to communicate with spoken language as, “I can’t talk the way I think.”  Later Emma wrote, “Please remember that my mind tells my body and my mouth to do all sorts of wonderful things constantly, but they don’t obey.”

In Barb’s most recent blog post (I urge everyone to read it) – Open Hearted Letter Quilt to Andrew Solomon –  she writes about autism, empathy, and how autistic people are often misunderstood:

“It’s like Saxe’s (1873) poem, “The Blindmen and the Elephant” where each blind man is partly in the right as he describes an elephant piece he studies, but all are in the wrong in knowing an elephant.

This autistic pachyderm will expand perceptions by presenting more pieces.”

Barb goes on to describe herself, “I don’t look normal.  I appear quite messed up and a prime candidate for nothing but pity and patronization, with a sprinkling of repulsion and fear.  I am disguised as a poor thinker.”

Still further along she quotes Emma:

“To quote my mentor Emma who is 12 (This old dog is all about learning new tricks) who wrote this by saying each letter aloud she pointed to it on a stencil board, “Autism is not what parents want to hear, but I hope that will change as more people get to know someone like me.”

This short video shows Barb typing just a few days ago.

Now there are some people who have suggested Barb is not typing on her own.  They believe that the person whose two fingers are tentatively touching her back are actually guiding her and that it is their voice and not hers that we are reading. This is a video of Barb writing four months ago…

And here is a video of Barb typing in 2011…

I am showing you these clips so you can see Barb’s obvious progress and please note, Barb is not a child.  I know that’s obvious, but it seems many people forget this or have trouble believing that people of all ages can and do progress.  Just as Barb works hard to become more independent while typing, so does my daughter.  Emma’s way of writing is slightly different in that no one is physically touching her and she points to letters on a letter board,  but she is working hard to move from pointing to the stencil letter board to the laminated letter board to a qwerty keyboard, with the eventual goal – being able to type on a computer regardless of who might be seated nearby.

As all these videos show, none of this is easy.  Barb is working hard and so is Emma.  Some days go more smoothly than others.  As Barb writes –

“I often politely ask my brain to please move my hand to do this or that only to be told, “We’re sorry due to high autism volume we are not able to answer your call at this time.  Please try harder later.”

For any of you who would like to have a hard cover copy of Barb and Lois’ terrific book, I Might Be You, I am giving away five hard cover copies.  Please comment below, saying something about yourself and why this book is of interest.  I will place all comments into a hat and will choose five at random.  If your comment is chosen I will contact you, via the email you use to comment, for your street address, where I will send you your copy of Barb and Lois’ MUST READ book at no cost to you and in appreciation to Barb, Lois and Emma for their hard work in bringing much-needed awareness to all who are like Barb and my daughter!

Emma, Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky

Emma, Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky

 

 

 

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Posted in Autism, Barb Rentenbach, communication

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How We Got Here

Posted on January 8, 2014 by | 48 comments

I was asked recently to talk about the process that led to my daughter being able to write the insightful posts she’s been writing of late.  And while I initially thought I HAD written about all of this and so much more throughout this blog, upon further reflection I realized I have not written about the process in a condensed form, so will attempt to do so now.  (Wish me luck.)  For those of you who are interested in a more detailed, chronological version of what we’ve been doing that has led to Emma writing posts like ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this‘, ‘this’ and ‘this‘ for this blog (and to see the daily progress) you can enter terms such as, RPM, Halo, Soma, communication and non-speaking in the “search” box or just begin reading the posts starting in mid-September until now.   For those of you who are REALLY curious, you can go back to October, 2012 when I went to the Autcom Conference.

There’s no way to say that on such and such date everything changed.  Like so much in life it was the incremental, seemingly, not-so-important things that occurred one after the other that then allowed for the next thing and the next until there was that moment we remembered and now look back upon and say, “oh yes, that was when everything shifted.”  Our version of having a – Helen Keller moment –  the day when W-A-T-E-R suddenly made sense, didn’t happen.  At least not like that.  There wasn’t any ONE moment when it all changed, but more a series of moments one after the other that led to a number of “OH!” moments.

One of those “OH!” moments was when Emma went to see Soma Mukhopadhyay (I wrote about that session ‘here‘) and we sat with tears streaming down our cheeks because Emma knew how to spell October and that it was a month in Autumn.  Another moment, previous to that, was when Emma was working with Pascal (documented ‘here‘) over a year ago.  Pascal “asked Em what she would do if she went into her own bedroom and found baby bear in her bed, Em typed, “I would be scared and I would watch his mother.”

I read that sentence several times.  How can I describe the feelings that came with reading it?  How can I express the surge of hope I felt?  How can I possibly describe the feeling of euphoria?  This sentence, this idea was beyond what I have come to expect.  It suggested a whole other level of thinking, a thought process far beyond anything she has been able to express before.”

In retrospect it seems incredible that all of this came as such a shock to us, but it did.  As I’ve said before, we knew nothing.  Literally.  Nothing.  But we thought we knew a great deal.  We knew what we’d been told up until that point and then it seemed as though over night, we realized everything we thought we knew was wrong.  So it was little moments just like these, over and over and over again, that continued to happen leading up to the first time I took Emma to see Soma in Texas (described in more detail ‘here‘, ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘) last September and then returning home and not being able to replicate what Soma was doing. But I was so determined and had to fight how depressed I felt because Emma seemed unable to write words that I’d just seen her write with Soma and yet with me, nothing.  Nothing at all.  There was self-doubt and fear, just tremendous fear that I wouldn’t be able to learn how to do this.  Fear that I would never be able to communicate with my daughter in the way I witnessed her communicating with others like Soma and Rosie and Pascal and Harvey and Leah.

So I had to begin at the beginning with simple choices and felt so impatient and so worried that this was how it was going to be for the rest of our lives.  But I kept showing up each day and making us do our “study room” together setting a timer for ten minutes and then 15 and then 20 and eventually up to 45 minutes and making lesson plans and wondering, wondering, always wondering whether she would be able to get to the point where she could trust me and write with me as I saw her writing with Soma.

I found a woman in NYC whom Soma had trained and we began taking Emma to see her too and I studied the videos of Soma working with Emma and I made notes and spent hours and hours pouring over them and making lesson plans and practicing.  I wrote out scripts of exactly what I would say during our “study room” session, leaving nothing to chance and I kept at it. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but actually it was more like six weeks, I arranged to have a Skype call with Soma, having sent her a video of me working with Emma.  Soma advised me to ask her one open ended question at the end of each lesson, which I hadn’t dared do as the one session I had, it was a disaster and she wouldn’t answer me.  I said as much to Soma.  I told her I didn’t think we were ready for that and Soma said, oh yes, but she’s ready.  You must ask something simple at the end of each lesson. So I did.  I did because Soma was so matter-of-fact and sure that this was what needed to happen next.

Emma began answering these open ended questions, at first with a few words and then with longer, more complex sentences.  I began to ask clarifying questions and now…  now look at her go!  It makes me cry thinking about this actually.  I couldn’t have known it would all happen as quickly as it did.  At the time, the process seemed to take forever, but looking back one’s perspective is different and I see it as very fast and I’m just so grateful for all that work, for all those days I struggled and cried to my husband and didn’t believe it would ever be any other way…

By the way, I DO think those Helen Keller moments that Hollywood then immortalizes, has all of us very impatient and thinking life is like that. Of course you and I know, life isn’t so simple or easy, nothing ever is. There’s work, hard, hard work and hours upon hours of showing up over and over again, and then slowly change occurs and it seems incredible, even miraculous!  But no one sees all that work, all those days when things didn’t go well, all those days when tempers flared, when there were tears and frustration and doubt and even disbelief that it would ever be different… until it is.

To all of you reading this – this has been my experience, as a parent, as someone who has always been terribly impatient, but determined.  Emma’s experience has been different (I’m hoping she’ll want to write about that at some point.) Everyone’s experience will differ, but perhaps, just perhaps, my experience will be useful to those of you just beginning, or will bring a smile of recognition to those of you ahead of me, either way, none of us need do this alone.  I didn’t and I am so grateful to all of you who have helped me help my daughter get to where she is now.

Em & Ariane on New Year's Eve ~ 2013

Em & Ariane on New Year’s Eve ~ 2013

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Posted in Autism, communication, Parenting

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“People Do Not Believe Me”

Posted on November 27, 2013 by | 57 comments

“People do not believe me” was what Emma wrote on our last day in Texas last week.  Prior to that sentence she wrote a message to Richard and me that left me in tears because it expressed her gratitude for believing in her and for fighting for her right to be thought competent and intelligent.

One day my daughter will be able to write what she feels and believes independently, of this I have absolutely no doubt.  When that day occurs, she can choose what and when she wants to write such things, but for now, I will keep this post to my own views and opinions.

As many of you know, it was not so very long ago that I was one of those people Emma was referring to.  I have a great many feelings as I write that sentence, but as I trace back what was going on and why I didn’t or couldn’t or wouldn’t believe in all, that it turns out, she is capable of, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it wasn’t that I didn’t hope, it was that everything I saw, heard and thought was muddied by what I read and was told and was confirmed by what I thought I was seeing.

When I met people face to face (as opposed to reading their words or hearing of them) like Barb Rentenbach, Tracy Thresher, Larry Bissonnette, Amy Sequenzia, young Nick, Joey, Jamie, Jenn, Mark, Tito, Sarah and countless others who do not speak, or whose spoken utterances are not in keeping with what they write, I began to question what I once believed.  It was during a presentation Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky gave at the Autcom Conference in the fall of 2012 that I thought, okay, maybe, just maybe, my daughter is not saying what she intends to say.   At that same conference I went to another presentation with Larry Bissonnette, Tracy Thresher, Pascal Cheng, Harvey Lavoy where a young boy, younger than Emma, typed on his iPad extremely insightful comments pertaining to the topic and again I thought, maybe, just maybe my daughter is like that boy and I just have to find a way to help her communicate.

It was the first time I’d really considered the disconnect between speech and intent.  It was the first time I began to wonder whether all this energy being placed on output of spoken language was the best way to help her communicate.  You see, up until then I bought into the idea that if we could just get her to talk, we would be giving her the tools she needed to say what she thought, that the words that came out of her mouth were indicative of what was going on in her mind.  We even would give her spoken prompts, say a sentence and have her repeat it, as though if she could just repeat the words, even though they were dictated and not her words, they would make sense and the connections would be made.  And when they didn’t seem to build to a critical mass, instead of questioning the push for spoken output, I questioned what was going on in her brain.

This was a huge mistake, it turns out.  Huge.  But I didn’t understand.  I didn’t see the error in this thinking.  I could not believe.  Not yet.

And then I met these wonderfully resilient, creative, intelligent people who did not communicate through spoken words, but instead wrote beautifully, poetic words that put together made equally gorgeous sentences that spoke of insights and wisdom and hope and strength and courage and compassion and I was blown away.  At first I thought each person was an anomaly.  I told myself they couldn’t possibly be representative of many, they had to be one in a million… and then I met more and more and eventually, even I could no longer doubt what I was seeing and witnessing, this critical mass… this unleashing of hundreds of voices, each unique and yet all…. all were communicating what was in their minds and many spoke of that disconnect that occurred between a thought and what then came out of their mouths.

“my mouth constantly talks different from what I think…” Emma wrote.

“People do not believe me.”

“Yes,” I told her, “but that is changing…  that will change.”

It is my promise to my daughter.  I will not stop writing until it is no longer necessary to say these things.

Lois Prislovsky, Barb Rentenbach and Emma

L,B&E copy

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Giving Hope…

Posted on May 24, 2013 by | 16 comments

During those first few years of Emma’s life, when we were so exhausted and everything was confusing, well-meaning people made pronouncements about Emma’s future.  If I had to choose one emotion to describe my feelings during those early years, it would be terror…  I was terrified.  The kind of terror that keeps you up at night and then, once you’ve managed to lose yourself in the welcome relief of sleep, you dream about elevators swinging in midair, doors that open up to emptiness, running to places only to find you keep ending up where you began…  and then… and then you wake up with a jolt of optimism, for a brief, few seconds you have forgotten your terror, only to have it come surging back, dispersing any wisps of residual optimism from days now gone…  You’re left bereft, empty, alone and yes, grieving… Grieving for that time when terror wasn’t something you were intimate with…

What I wanted during those early years, what I wanted later when Emma grew beyond toddlerhood, when she entered adolescence, all I wanted was for someone, anyone to say –  Don’t believe any of these people.  They have no idea what they’re talking about.  Don’t spend your time on the internet researching autism.  Don’t listen to organizations with Autism in their title, but that have few or no Autistic people occupying prominent positions in their organization.  Don’t believe any of those people who talk about “recovery” and liken your daughter’s neurology to disease or buy into therapies whose main goal is to make your daughter indistinguishable from her non Autistic peers.  Reject ALL of that.  Being able to speak isn’t the only way to communicate.  An Autism diagnosis isn’t a metaphoric nail in a coffin.  

I imagine those years of terror and how different our lives would have been had I met some of the people I now know.  People I have met on the internet, through their blogs, at conferences such as AutCom and the ICI Conference in Syracuse.  Conferences where I left feeling elated and euphoric because I witnessed all that was possible and not all that wasn’t.  How can we move beyond the current conveyor belt of fear that only serves to pad the pockets of Autism businesses run and created by non Autistic people, who do not seek out the active involvement of those very people they insist they are dedicated to help?  How do we dispense hope and what is possible amidst the maelström of deficit thinking?  How do we care for families new to all of this, those families whose children will be greatly affected by their parent’s terror?

We have to give eye-witness accounts of what is possible.  We must have resources available to families that will counter the predominantly negative views of autism.  Resources that do not condemn the parent or the child.  Resources that do not encourage terror, but offer hope and possibility.  Ideally I would have been given the list of books  I have on my “Resources” page and actual copies of these four books:  Autism and Representation Edited by Mark Osteen, Autism and The Myth of the Person Alone Edited by Douglas Biklen, Inventing the Feeble Mind: A History of Mental Retardation in the United States by James W. Trent Jr.  and Representing Autism by Stuart Murray.

Parents need support so they have the energy, patience and optimism to give their child the support and encouragement they need.  Therapists, professionals, educators, experts who are making a living working in the field of Autism must understand the importance of offering hope.  Hope based in possibility and reality.  No one is served by being terrified.  The only people who will be adversely affected if we stop the terror surrounding autism are those whose businesses thrive on such beliefs.  And to all those businesses – I say – Good riddance.

LifeThe possibilities are endless… 

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AutCom 2012 Conference – The Best Kept Secret

Posted on October 8, 2012 by | 47 comments

The Autcom conference was a fleeting glimpse into paradise.  A tiny taste of how the world could be were we accepting of each other, treated all people as equals and with respect, without prejudice, without assumptions, without bias.  Autcom was a window into how the world could be, but isn’t.  Not yet.  Words do not do this conference justice.  How could they?  How do you describe a room full of people who are connected not through race, nationality, religion, political views or neurology, but instead are connected by an idea.  A vision.  How do you describe that?

Accommodation – it’s a word we hear, but what does it really mean?  At the Autcom conference it meant waving hands at the end of a presentation instead of clapping, lowered lights, snacks that included gluten-free and casein free items and non dairy alternatives.  Accommodation meant no one stared disapprovingly at anyone who stimmed or made noise or got up to leave in the middle of a talk.  Accommodation meant people were polite and moved chairs that might be blocking someone’s ability to come or go.  It meant using a microphone or repeating a question for those who weren’t able to hear the first time.  It meant being respectful and considerate when someone came up to peer at your name tag and it meant understanding that when that person gently touched your hand after a presentation it was their way of thanking you and I defy anyone to not see the beauty and love in that.  Accommodation meant slowing down while someone typed their answer or question or thought.  It turns out accommodation means being a thoughtful, considerate human being who is respectful of others.  How is it this isn’t done automatically, as a matter of course.  How is it that we as a society have drifted so far from this very basic and easy way of being in the world?

The single biggest issue I had with this wonderful conference was that there were too many terrific things going on at once and it was impossible to see and hear everyone and everything.  To give you an example of this – on the first day of the conference after Ari Ne’eman’s welcome and an opening keynote address by Jennifer Paige Seybert, was Savannah Nicole Logsdon-Breakstone’s presentation – Loud Hands Project’s Neurodiversity 101.  At the same time, Larry Bissonnette, Pascal Cheng, Harvey Lavoy and Tracy Thresher were doing a presentation on Supported Typing, which I really needed to go to in order to assess whether this might be something we could use to help Em communicate more effectively, but next door to them was Nick Pentzell, Hope Block, Jacob Pratt and Autumn Dae Miller presenting “Rated “R”: That Oh-So-Difficult Topic”.  I cannot tell you how much I wanted to hear them too and later heard from others that it was a not to be missed presentation, sadly though, I missed it.  Human Development Journey was presented by Cecilia Breinbauer about using DIR, which was the method Richard and I were trained in by the late Stanley Greenspan, after abandoning ABA.

Ari Ne’eman

Jennifer Paige Seybert

That evening after dinner and a wonderful performance by Jordon Ackerson who reminded me of Emma because of his beautiful voice, we watched Wretches and Jabberers, with a Q&A with Larry and Tracy.  This was my third time watching this documentary, which I posted about last month ‘here‘.   I asked them about self-injurious behaviors, something both engage in during the film.  I asked for  their opinion about the commonly held belief by many that SIBs should be thwarted and how parents and caregivers are often unsure how to deal with this.  Tracy typed, “That was years of frustration with no way to reliably express myself working its way out through my behavior the problem was lack of communication which pissed me off.”  Larry typed, “I lived in an institution so I was locked in arms of restraint its legal but immoral and only represses anger nothing looks more kind than softly spoken words and lit up smiles.”

Jordan Ackerson

Tracy Thresher

Larry Bissonnette

Read that again.  “… nothing looks more kind than softly spoken words and lit up smiles.”  The presentations were terrific, but it was what is possible that this conference represented, which affected me most profoundly. The AutCom conference was an example all organizations, who say they are interested in Autism and helping those who are Autistic, should follow.  Autistic people make up a large portion of their board, Autistic people led more than 50% of the presentations, the audience was at least half Autistic, if not more.  At my presentation there were more Autistic people than not, for which I was truly honored by.  The conference showed what the world could be like if we work together, reach out to each other, include everyone despite our perceived differences with love, compassion and kindness.  Accommodation is less about accommodating and more about getting in touch with our humanity and what it means to be alive and sharing this planet together.  Accommodation and inclusion means we ALL benefit.

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The AutCom Conference – Baltimore

Posted on October 5, 2012 by | 8 comments

I am in Baltimore at the AutCom Conference.  Since the conference begins first thing in the morning, I arrived yesterday afternoon by train.  As I waited for the shuttle service to arrive I witnessed a group of men yelling at each other.  Suddenly one enormous man lunged at another, grabbed him by the throat and began to strangle him.  Several other men jumped in, amidst lots of yelling and swearing and finally were able to pry the two apart, only to have the one who had been strangled race after the strangler, shouting descriptive words which I cannot repeat, mostly because other than a few F bombs, I couldn’t figure out what he was saying, though by the look on the attackers face, they weren’t friendly.  After witnessing two men practically killing each other, I was greatly relieved to see the shuttle pull up to whisk me away.

The van driver stopped only once to pick up a party of six elderly men who were off to a business retreat.  The one gentleman seated next to me after having an animated conversation with his wife, though I’m not sure about her identity, but was clearly someone he knew well and felt comfortable hanging up on – twice –  and then called back.  Exhausted from all that, he promptly fell asleep listing so precariously in his seat that I feared he might just keel over completely.   I scooted as far away from him as was physically possible lest he fall into my lap like a felled Redwood.

The drive was otherwise uneventful. Much to my delight the hotel looks out on a beautiful lake where I saw this… I believe this is a White Egret.  I could be wrong, but in Northern California, where I grew up, I remember seeing one once and it looked a great deal like this.

A panoramic view of the lake.

Sculpture with the lake in the background…

The conference begins at 9:00AM this morning with a welcoming ceremony by Ari Ne’eman, followed by a keynote address by Jennifer Paige Seybert.  I intend to then go to Julia Bascom and Savannah Nicole Logsdon-Breakstone’s presentation – The Loud Hands Project.  However Larry Bissonette, Pascal Cheng, Harvey Lavoy and Tracy Thresher (of Wretches and Jabberers) are also presenting at the same time, and I’d love to hear them too.  The entire conference is a who’s who of wonderful presenters.  I don’t know how anyone is able to choose!

It’s all very exciting and I’m so happy to be here!

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Expectations, Acceptance And The AutCom Conference

Posted on September 28, 2012 by | 20 comments

I am in the midst of preparing the presentation I plan to give at the AutCom conference Saturday, October 6th.  There will be lots of visuals and (hopefully) some humor. I intend to talk about our  journey from diagnosis to terror, despair, anger, determination, discovery, acceptance and HOPE!  I will keep it personal and hope that our story might resonate for other parents, while also explaining why and how the words and voices of Autistic people have so completely changed our lives.  (I use the word ‘our’, because it is not just my life that has changed, but Richard’s and by extension both our children’s too.)  I hope to illustrate the ripple effect of our actions, all of our actions and how important it is (to me) to do everything I can to change the way Autism is perceived.

I have found that in talks such as the one I am about to give, one walks a fine line between trying to share one’s personal experience and ‘lecturing’ or being seen as dictating to others how they should or shouldn’t behave.  I don’t know that I’ve always gotten that balance right, in fact, as I write this, I know I haven’t.  But there are a couple of points I know are universally important.  Things I can do and try to do – be honest and hold myself responsible for my actions.   While also being hyper aware of what Emma would say were she in the audience.  Am I saying anything that would wound?  Am I saying anything that might make her feel badly about herself?  If she were there, would she object?

On this blog I have shared all kinds of things about my past, my personal struggles, things that happened long before I ever had children because it’s important to me that people reading this blog understand, my “issues” are not caused by my husband or either of my children.  My issues are what cause me to react the way I do.  It is this baggage, some of which I’ve unpacked, some of which I continue to struggle with, that cause me to trip up and behave the way I do.  Neither my husband nor my children CAUSE me to lose my temper, feel sad, fearful, depressed or impatient.   I felt all those things long before I was fortunate enough to have a family of my own.

When I am feeling disgruntled about my life it is not because of my husband or children or anyone’s specific neurology, it is because I have expectations that have gone unmet.  Until I am able to fully embrace and accept myself, my life and everyone in it fully, I will grapple with feelings of discontentment and despair.  My level of annoyance and dissatisfaction are in direct proportion to my unmet expectations.  This is my life’s work.  This is what I need to be vigilant about.

Given all of this, it is particularly fitting that tonight Richard and I are going to a meditation workshop with our two favorite Buddhist teachers, Ezra Bayda and Elizabeth Hamilton at the Open Center.  Their lecture is appropriately entitled –  Freedom From Fear: A Zen Perspective.

Nic does the NYTimes crossword – April, 2002

Emma ‘reads’ the NYTimes – 2003

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