My son was three when I took him to see a mental health professional for the first time. Ari was little, but challenging in so many ways. He refused to walk outside when it rained. He’d scream whenever water splashed on his clothes. He would never fingerpaint in nursery school; he didn’t like to get his hands dirty. By the time he developed an obsessive habit of tucking in chairs at the kitchen table, I knew it was time to do something.