My brother is autistic. Does
it matter to me? Do I not love him? Do I get embarrassed
when people ask me about him? Do I ignore him? No, no,
no, and again, no. I don't do any of those things and I
sincerely hope that no one else does.
It doesn't matter to me that my
brother, Pete, is autistic. Autistic children are very
cute and have angelic faces because there is nothing for
them to worry about. Pete has brownish blond hair that is
a little curly, he has blue eyes, and he is the cutest
little thing I ever saw.
I have known him his whole life and
get along with him better than anyone else. I understand
what he's telling me, and what he is asking for.
As for not loving him, if I didn't
love him I would be insane. He's cute, he talks to me,
and we do a lot together. When my parents tell him he
can't have something, once in a while, I might let him
have it when no one is looking.
When people ask me about him, I am
proud to let them know everything, including the fact
that he and his father each have bifocals, and Pete
handles them better.
I like to play and be with Pete as
much as I possibly can, he helps me a lot. He can do a
lot of things I can't. For instance, I would not be able
to stand wearing bifocals, and he never runs out of
Despite his disability Pete can do
some pretty amazing things. He can see a movie and repeat
the entire thing weeks later. He always is riding his
tricycle, running around, playing with his toy train,
watching TV, or begging me to chase him, or sword fight
Pete is perfectly normal, if you
ask me. Sometimes his words are jumbled, but he can still
walk, talk, play, sing, eat, draw, and pretty much do
everything that a four year old boy can do.