Pauline Campos

I have earned the right to swear simply by being an adult. Mommy gets to swear because Mommy isn't nine.

“Is autism my super power?” she asked me, giggling.

As each moment came to pass, I relaxed just a little more. She wasn’t the only one learning to let go. This is parenthood!

No shame. No room for good, old-fashioned, parent-shaming from ignorant onlookers who may have assumed my husband and I are too weak to ignore the siren call of easily portable Apple products in order to avoid having to actually converse with one another when out in public.

You signed up for this Halloween evening of handing out candy. Let’s review the rules for how not to be a judgmental Halloween jerk.

People should stop assuming things about my autistic child.

We went out on Saturday as a family — a full day left with the infamous unicorn frappuccino still on the menu. The idea was to taste the fairy-tale magic.

Our relationship — and the complexities of falling in love and marrying a partner on the other end of the sleep spectrum — is not unique.

In a flash, my daughter was back on her feet and just a few steps forward, she was letting herself sink into the snow once more. “I love this, mama! I’m so good at falling!”