The waiting room was not peaceful. It was only quiet in that strained way public places get when everyone is trying to hold themselves together. I was already doing the kind of mental math parents learn to do without thinking: how long we had been there, how close my six-year-old son Marcus was to sensory overload, and whether I had enough tools left to help him through the next few minutes.
Then the fire alarm went off…Continue Reading ⬇️
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