Toby is such a brat. He gets what he wants when he wants it. He lives in a big, beautiful home in Sierra Madre, with a swimming pool in the backyard.
Toby is vey good-looking; in fact, he is handsome. He has thick, wavy walnut hair and pinky cheeks. He is tall and he has a good apetite.
asked Nancy, his mom, how she finally got the diagnosis. She told me she was teaching art at USC. She would run to the parking lot to pump between classes. Yet somehow she knew something was not right. Don’t take me wrong, she said. He grew up fine as a baby. She had him in her early 40s. He babbled just like any other toddler. Yet one day, within two weeks, he was quiet. It’s not like he was sick, though. He’s just, well, quiet.
So they sought professional help. The news came around Christmastime. He was diagnosed with autism. Well, Nancy said, that was our Christmas gift. As if, she continued, a mean angel came in the middle of the night, took our baby away, and replaced him with someone who looks exactly like him, yet I knew it wasn’t him. His eyes just weren’t the same anymore. In fact, he wasn’t here anymore. Otherwise, how can you explain why he doesn’t turn his head when I call him, yet approached the TV as soon as he hears his favourite jingle? How can he be unable to recognize me as his mom? I had to interrupt her right there because I still believe, deep down inside, that he still does. She just smiled, and offered me more tea. Nancy, how could you still be so sweet? Well, that’s my Tobber, she said lovingly. What else can you do?