Julie Williams reminds Brenden, 3, to play safely while at the weekly playgroup they attend at the Parent Connection.

Back home, Beemer is bouncing off the walls. "Can I 'pin around?" Beemer begs, desperately wanting to spin in circles in his living room.
The room is crowded with boxes. The two are leaving Tucson in search of a better life with more services in the East, and Williams is packing up their lives.
"No, Beemer, you have to do that in your room," she tells the child.
He sadly trudges off.
"The rules must be very clear. I have to use one-word commands. It's what his brain can handle."
Tests have shown that despite FAE, Beemer is bright. Williams has lofty goals for him.
"I know he can have a happy, successful life, but he'll always have to work at it," she said. "He will go to college. We'll get tutors if we need.
"Maybe he can take his obsession with cars and become an engineer who designs cars. It's a matter of challenging him gently. He doesn't have to be an attorney. If he wants to be a dishwasher, that's fine. But he will be the best dishwasher in town."

Four months ago, the mother and son loaded their clothes and books and toys and furniture into a truck and left Tucson.
They moved to a place where services for people with FAS and FAE are more accessible.
Williams enrolled Beemer in Head Start and got him hooked up with doctors who are familiar with children like him whose brains are different.
Williams worries she is the only one in Beemer's corner. "Do I have the resources to pull him through this or are we going to create another John Eastlack?" she wonders, speaking of the convicted Tucson murderer who has FAS.
Williams can't help but be angry at Beemer's birth parents.
"Do you know how mad I get when I look at my beautiful child and think, 'How dare you damage him?'" she asked. "I want his mother to know what she created. She drank herself into oblivion, and this is what she created."