I recently found this old handwritten note from my then six-year-old son who'd been diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome (a neurological disorder characterized by tics). He left it on my pillow one night before bed.
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At the time, he was considered moderate-to-severe, four years later his neurologist said he was mild-to-moderate.
Today, at thirteen, he has *almost* outgrown it, a happy kid with lots of friends and great empathy for other kids facing their own problems. So grateful he is where he is today, but it still flattens me when I read his words.