Before Saturday’s marathon hair session, we dropped Tommy at a local bookstore to play D&D with his friends. I have to make a confession. The first time Tommy asked for a ride to the bookstore for one of these gatherings, I thought he was being set-up. I was certain that he would get there and be the only person there. Doug was the driver that day and he was under strict orders not to leave until he was certain that everything was on the level. When Doug got home, I quizzed him in a mild panic while he nonchalantly answered. Since that first frightening game, there have been several more meetups with friends. I am no longer a disbeliever. Tommy has real, live, same-age friends that he interacts with completely unsupervised. Saturday we pulled up just as another peer was being dropped off. There was a small horde of teens already inside the building. We watched the two boys walk in and get greeted by their fellow dragon slayers. Laughing, back slapping, happy to see each other friends wandered to the back of the store for their imaginary quest. And I cried. Big, real tears. When I stopped fighting my child’s differences and started accepting him just as he is, every single thing became worthy of a celebration. Even if the celebration is just a smile with tears and a heart so full that it hurts. I may have to sit next to the AEDs at Tommy’s graduation in May.