Until my son Luca was about 18 months old, I thought I had this parenting thing down.
He was my first baby - bright-eyed, curious, and meeting his early milestones more or less on time. He was affectionate with us, loved books, and could recite entire songs from The Wiggles. I had zero reason to think our life would be anything other than ordinary. Maybe even charmed.
But by his second birthday, things started to feel… off. The tantrums were intense and unpredictable. He would scream if the tag on his shirt touched his skin, line his toys up with laser precision, and melt down at the slightest change in routine. He didn't respond to his name. He had words, but they came and went. He would go on to speak relatively normally, but often simply chose not to. Sometimes I could see him - really see him - and other times, it was like he vanished into his own world.
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