So I'm in Stuff-Mart with Mo, and we're in the checkout lane and she's doing her usual, visiting the little fuzzy guys on the impulse shelves and threatening to wander off and explore, and she does one of her sudden turnarounds and almost clobbers the next guy in light with her elbow. I retrieve her and mumble an apology.
"Oh, I understand," the guy says, as I remove the tub of gummy worms from Mo's hand and guide her bodily back to where the cashier is waiting on me to finish paying. "I got one at home."
I thought he just meant that he had a kid. I must have looked a little vaguely at him, because he clarified: "I know, with autism everyone stares at you like you're the most messed up parent they've ever seen."
So he did understand.
I know, intellectually, that with one in 150 kiddos impacted by this, that I'm not alone. But it feels that way a lot of the time.
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