A quick revisit with the St-Laurent family during Covid, concerning the stress on everyone at that time and their young son's autism diagnosis.
(N'oublie pas means "Don't forget")

July 3, 2020

"Merci."

Alain clicked off the Facetime window, ending his remote conversation with the doctor. The husky sighed with some mixture of relief at the confirmation of what he had long suspected and uncertainty about what it meant going forward.
Probable high functioning autism. What they used to call Asperger's. Before that, what they used to call just being eccentric or quirky or what have you. And it might not ever be any more than that for his son. The real test would be when he started school, which was supposed to have been this fall, but now no one could say.

He walked out into the living room, to find his mate Julie eying her phone anxiously. "Nineteen more deaths today," she announced, "and 89 more cases." The Covid numbers for Quebec.

"Stop doom-scrolling, cheri," said Alain. "It's not good for you." That being said, he had been doing the same thing himself earlier.

She glared at him. "Well?"

"Well, it's what we thought. He's autistic... a little bit at least."

Young Pierre-Alexandre continued playing with his toy dinosaurs in the corner, paying no heed to the diagnosis his father had just announced. Julie's blue eyes went cold, then slowly began welling with tears.

"I'm awful," she proclaimed. "I'm an awful mother."

"Mais, noooooo," Alain protested, sitting down on the couch and hugging her.

"Oh Alain," she went on. "I'm not shocked right now, but how did we wait so long to get an answer? How did we not know?"

"We're his parents, not psychologists; of course we couldn't have known that for sure."

"All the signs..." Julie lamented. "He was in diapers near twice as long as his sister."

Alain said, "I'm well aware. But boys are always slower at that than girls; that's well known."

"All the weird quirks. The insect collecting. The stacking of blocks. Who likes stacking that much?"

"Kids like to build things..." said Alain, "When I was his age, I used to make the same house of cards over and over... a base of four pairs leant into each other, then three, then two , then one."

"So, he gets it from you."

Alain was taken aback by that. "I'm not a doctor, but I know enough about genetics to know that whatever it is, he gets it from both of us. The thing is, and the reason it's not something you can just cure, it's not any one pathology. It's a broad category of neurological phenotypes, caused by hundreds, probably thousands of different variations in development, springing from the genetic level."
Marie-Claire, their 10-year-old daughter, who had been listening from the chair opposite them, switched off her Game Boy (or whatever the modern equivalent of that was) and piped up. "That's a lot of science, Dad. Jean Vachon in my class has autism. He's pretty normal... mostly." She was very much her father's daughter; so inquisitive and sharp and Alain was proud of her every day.

"Well, that's good," said Alain, "but remember that 'normal' is subjective."

"What's subjective mean?"

"That your views and perceptions of something are based on your own personal experience and interpretations. Like, a few months ago it wasn't normal to be wearing face masks everywhere, and it still isn't really to us. But for someone who grows up with all this, it might well become their normal."

Julie groaned at his last point. The last four years had been hard on everyone's mental health to say the least. For Alain, he could never get over what had happened with the 2016 US election and the current (soon to be former if God had any mercy) president. As the father of a young girl, it chilled him to his very being, the depravity that some of their southern neighbors were capable of, their cruel disregard for women and vulnerable people. As for Julie, she had taken the pandemic even harder on top of that. Even though she didn't usually work outside of her home, the feelings of loss of control and helplessness and the worry for their children's future had cast a grey pall over her life. Everyone just wanted some certainty about things.

"So, what's going to happen with PA?" asked Marie-Claire.

"We're looking at follow up appointments," said Alain. "He might be totally fine. If it turns out he needs special accommodation, then we'll arrange what he needs."

"I'll do what I can to help him," said Marie-Claire.

"I know you will," said Alain, "and help your mother too. In fact, we'll all help each other."

Pierre-Alexandre had now come over as well, sensing that there was a lot of big emotional talk going on. He asked, "Did I do something?"

Julie said, "No my baby, you're perfect."

Alain said, "And I married the perfect wife and mother. N'oublie pas."

They all sat down on the couch and embraced in the moment. Alain reflected that this was his new normal; for most of his life, he had never even really thought he'd ever have cubs, but now they were his world and he'd do his best for them through everything.