It was a toy truck that convinced me it was best for him to see the pediatrician. He didn’t play with it like one would expect, but he turned one of the back wheels with his fingers over and over again. There was no imaginative game of the plastic truck traveling around my parents’ living room. I’d even sit with him and try to show him how to ‘drive’ the truck. However, he’d either go back to the wheel or start lining up his toy blocks.
I had spent months in denial, only to learn acceptance from a six-dollar toy truck.