For most of us in this crisis, it feels like the world has been turned upside down. But for my son, who is on the autism spectrum, it's as though his universe is finally the right way up.
At the beginning of all this, friends and family enquired about how we are getting on; wondering what life is like on lockdown with a 10-year-old child who is autistic. The truth is: for the first time ever - this one is easier.
He didn't notice the seismic social shift the rest of us were reeling from, he just seemed calmer and more content. I realised, for him, this is probably how things should be. This is a re-set to his vision of "normal". Instead of feeling oppressed, it's like he's finally free.
It's logical, when you think of it. When your senses are constantly under assault from the noise of the social world, it must be a relief when the volume is shut off. It has made me more aware of the constant stress he masks, living in what autism campaigner Adam Harris described as "a planet not built for you."
While us "neurotypicals" are falling apart in the absence of the usual levels of human contact, I see how at ease he is without it.
His unique skill set means he is equipped for a society without endless interaction; social, physical, emotional. He is getting a rest from the constant decoding of verbal language and body language. He no longer has to deal daily with the smells and sights and sounds he finds intolerable.
In this new life, there are no handshakes to be politely but rigidly refused, small talk conversations to be avoided, forcefields to be protected. No eye contact to be relentlessly maintained.
No more nuisance - but endured - social gatherings. No more restaurants, which he can't fathom the point of, with his Kindle handy for when it gets too much. No more supermarkets: the place of lights and noise and people and clamour that he loathes most of all and half-jokingly refers to as "my worst enemy".
While the shrinking world of lockdown made me feel like the walls were closing in, his ideal is living in as reduced a sphere as is practicable. That concept, taken to the max, is where we are now: in our home, together.
The world he usually has to adapt to is now adapting to him. He is a natural social distancer. He is cautious. He has a heightened awareness of contamination. His favourite activities are solitary in nature.
Looking back, I can see how responding to his needs for his first five years turned out to be useful training to cope with life during coronavirus. My lifestyle now in 2020 is not so dissimilar to what it was like in 2010.
All social places - cafés, restaurants, hotel lobbies, parties - caused him high distress, and so we went for outdoor walks alone instead. Minus the hubbub and the sensory overload, he settled down. Supermarket shops triggered such meltdowns, I used to tell myself we were in a war zone to get through it. I'm glad now he gave me the rehearsal, and with it the knowledge that everything passes and changes.
I spent the last five years acclimatising him to the social world. The only conflict we have is me pushing him forward, socially. Right now, that conflict does not arise.
Thankfully, I am so happy to have a highly capable, mature boy who has progressed beyond all I could hope for. He's bright, warm and funny and deals with his challenges stoically.
Adherence to routine is vital to those with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). In my son's case, he seemed happy to adapt to a new routine that involved the removal of social commitments.
I am conscious autism is a vast spectrum and we are mercifully at the fortunate end of it. The autistic experience during coronavirus is individual by nature. Our one positive story may be unrecognisable to those with profound autism, or whose issues are different, or who are in a younger or older age group.
Like Nicola Scott - a fellow single parent - whose son Patrick has severe autism and is non-verbal, who wrote recently of her desperation after six weeks of lockdown. She told how her seven-year-old boy is struggling badly without structure, and the distress comes out in his behaviour.
Yet her concern about a regression of social skills is one I share. Exposure to the rhythms of society may be difficult, but it builds up tolerance. Lockdown was the easy part - its unwinding may be the problem.
The social world will return, eventually, and those with autism will likely regress further into social and communication deficits. Like everything during coronavirus, we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.
In the meantime: gratitude. If this was an emergency that required evacuation, or internal displacement, it would have been a disaster. The pandemic has made us aware of the precarity of our world. As a parent of a child with ASD - like one in 65 school kids - I am grateful for a small mercy of this horrible crisis: it requires staying at home, to stay safe.
Prioritise: What's important to your child? Instead of trying to get everything done, pick the most vital - be it exercise, education or entertainment - and build the day around that. Keep it calm; don't add pressure to an already hectic time.
Prepare: Parents of autistic kids worry about how their child would cope if they got sick. Who would take over the routines and understand their extra needs? My son has food issues and I freaked out about this until I filled the freezer with meals and sent recipes to my siblings in case of emergency.
Seize the day: Instead of focusing on worries about regression while the social world is on pause, try use this unique time to explore other developmental activities you might never otherwise have had a chance to. We got out on our bikes in the quiet city centre and took the opportunity to gain important road-user confidence and skills.
Try music: Psychologists have found music helps regulate emotions, decreasing stress and anxiety. My 10-year-old has discovered music fully in lockdown and it has a near-miraculous calming effect.