I know I’m a sport talk radio host, and I know you all log on to this site to read about sports. But please, allow me to talk about something that’s near and dear to my heart. I would like to share it with you because you all are an extended part of my family, and many of you have listened as I’ve grown over the years.
I’ve told you that my son, Robbie, is autistic. He goes to Kennedy Krieger for therapy and they’ve done a great job with him. He also attends Hebbville Elementary, and they’ve done a great job as well educating him. Because of this, I’ve been waiting for a miracle change in my son. I’ve been waiting for the day that I wake up and Robbie will see the world through my eyes. I’ve been waiting for the day for Robbie to communicate the way that I communicate. I’ve been waiting for the day for Robbie to interact with his peers the way they interact with one another. That’s when the maturation process started taking place in me.
My Robbie is nine years old, and I fully realize that the miracle has already taken place. It took place at conception. It continued for the nine months that my wife, Yedda, carried him. It continued when I witnessed his delivery. While waiting for THAT miracle, I could miss out on the exuberance of being Robbie’s father.
The truth is, Robbie and Stephania, my daughter, fight like your typical brother and sister. They play, like your typical brother and sister. The problem is, I wanted my boy to be a typical individual, when he is a very unique individual. He is funny, warm, sensitive, and all boy. Just ask the young ladies on my basketball team. He’s claimed everyone of them to be his girlfriend at one point.
I know this is probably not what Nestor had in mind when he told us to “blog,” but I had to do this. I had to tell all that would listen that I love my boy for who he is, and not for what I’m hoping he will become. Man, sometimes it takes some of us a little longer to grow up. Thanks for lending me your ear. I’ll see you at 2pm. Get in where you fit in.