I often say that the world should try to be a little more like my son. We’d all be better for it.

I often say that the world should try to be a little more like my son. We’d all be better for it.
Once again, I learn about the world through his eyes in ways I never would have noticed on my own.
Some friends have understood. Others haven’t. To be completely honest, sometimes I didn’t either.
Their “expertise”, or lack thereof, isn’t limited to autism and the families affected by it. They will also judge anything else they don’t know.
Everyone’s jonesing for that hit of the S’mores. It’s like a town full of Wimpys, promising, “I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a Snickerdoodle today.”
It’s like getting abducted by a UFO. You went into this awful experience with an absurdly difficult and disgusting task. Next thing you know, it’s 45 minutes later and you’re sitting on the floor finished, with no recollection of how you got there or what you did.
I want to give lectures about what I was forced to call meals as a child and how we don’t get to choose what we want to eat. But, alas, I’m tired. So I plop the Eggos in the toaster and everyone enjoys their morning.
Some loved ones are gone because they’re in a better place now. Others are gone because I am.
Sure, there were times that I was wrong. It wasn’t every time, though.
Even if I convince them of the truth today, they’ll just believe another lie tomorrow.
You must be logged in to post a comment.