My parents gave me everything within their scope. I was given much attention and showered with love. I was taken to a petting zoo almost daily.  I remember the animals there: I felt they were mine. I even let the goats out of their area into the park, which was very amusing to me. My first time at the circus was interesting, and my mother tells this story:

Ryan was two when we were at the three-ring circus. He had his own seat, but I was so excited and didn't want him to miss anything, so I put him on my lap. And as he watched happily, I was so excited that I kept saying, "Ryan, look at this!  Ryan, look at that! Ryan, see the clowns and elephants!" And all of a sudden, he turned around and slapped me across the face! Then he turned back to watch the circus. The doctor said I overstimulated him and to just leave him alone, let him enjoy, and take things in on his own.

When I was about seven, I noticed that I did some things differently.  For instance, if I went to a candy sotre and was told to pick out the candy I wanted, I would only pick what I wanted at that moment.  I wouldn't totally raid the place.  The cashier remarked how different that was.  Most children would hoard all that they could, but I only took the small amount that I felt I needed or wanted at that time.

For Christmas, I had lots of presents, but when I opened the first one, I would sit there and play with it for a while, until my mother encouraged me to move on to the next gift.  I was simply grateful for that one gift, and really in the moment, locked onto that one present.  I would stay focused on that present all day.

When I was younger, I was often able to stare at an object and feel my whole being kind of move toward it - almost leaving my body - and I would be able to see it from every angle, and every single sense was dramatically heightened, and everything felt larger.  I would tell my friends, and they would have absolutely no idea what I was talking about.  I felt weird, misunderstood, and "wrong".