Ralph at the age of six months or so. Still so squishy-cute. Still loved and doted on by everyone. Still insulated from the big bad world.
I was prepared to fight for him, to the death if necessary, for his inclusion and acceptance. But I wasn't really concerned at that time. We still had time, right? He wouldn't be in school for years, right?
Well, I learned early and at a place that I never would have expected, that inclusion and acceptance don't always come easy. Can you guess where?
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