Out of the corner of my eye, as I was pushing my cart with my shrieking 3.5-year-old to our car in 86 degree heat, I saw you watching me. I promptly forgot, though, as I was hyper focused on getting my son safely in the car to calm down.
When you knocked on my window, as I was about to start driving, I hesitated because I had a feeling I knew why you were there. Still, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt; maybe you needed some help. The pamphlet on “Discipline” that you tried to give me, and then–when I declined–placed on my windshield, made me laugh heartily. Especially because after you first tried to hand it to me, I simply said, “No thanks, my son has autism and is having a meltdown–not a tantrum.” Then you said, “It still applies.”
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