为难英文A Friendly Reminder
letter是什么意思
In life you have a choice: Bitter or Better? Choo better, forget bitter.
I’ve become accustomed to stares. Strange looks becau of the strange sounds my son makes. Jerky movements and high-pitched squeals draw looks of curiosity, sometimes censure, and worst of all, pity. Yes, autism tutored me well in the ways of lf-consciousness, and then taught me to ignore it all.
amiablePublic places have been difficult minefields for my family to negotiate ever since Myles was diagnod with autism at the age of two. He had quickly deteriorated from a bright, vibrant, ever-learning toddler, to a vacant-stared, silent child who emed frozen in some alternative univer completely inaccessible to us. The strange behaviors were challenging but created some situations that make me laugh . . . in hindsight. Way hind.
Like the time at the park fountains when Myles ran naked through the water. Kids do the darndest things, right? Did I mention he was nine years old at the time?horizontal是什么意思
Or the time he came downstairs to greet the friends we’d invited over for dinner . . . without any clothes on. Did I mention he was ten years old? Ah, the naked years.exclusive意思
Some incidents, though, even in the rearview mirror, will never make me laugh. One time, I had gotten up the courage to take Myles out to Golden Corral without my husband. Restaurants mean a lot of people and a lot of noi — two things that often spell nsory overload for my son. First came the screeching. Then the banging on his chest, which devolved into banging on the table. With my nerves stretched paper thin, I noticed a sweet old lady ambling my way. I prepared my “thanks, but no thanks” to the offer of assistance I was sure she was about to make.
“Can you keep him quiet?” she snapped. “I’m trying to eat! Is he on medication or anything? He should be!”
I held my tongue out of respect for my elders. I apologized if Myles had disturbed her meal, and with as much dignity as I could, hightailed it out of there. I didn’t bother to look around for compassion or concern or more of what the old lady had given me. I had to es
十一月英文
cape the weight of the eyes around us. It was humiliating and disheartening.extradition
After that incident, and others like it, I built a wall around my heart, a shell to protect my most vulnerable, tender parts from other people’s opinions about my family. About my son. It hurt too much when they didn’t understand, so I told mylf it didn’t matter. And really, in the larger scheme of things, it didn’t. I still had the great privilege of raising this very special child. I still saw things in him only a mother would discern. I still felt compelled every morning to create a better reality for him, to imagine the best future I possibly could for him.
It didn’t matter what anyone thought, but I had lost something. I no longer gave people the benefit of the doubt. I stopped giving them the chance to be compassionate, stopped looking for the opportunity to help them understand. I assumed the worst about them, and in many ways that was as bad as what that old lady had done to me that day.
So when I found mylf back at Golden Corral with my son, who started screeching and banging the table again, I looked up with wary eyes at the middle-aged woman approachi
ng. Her face was perfectly rene as she assd the situation at the table with my son, my husband, and me. I readied my comeback. This was no little old lady, and if she had a complaint about my son’s behavior, I was prepared to pull the trigger and give her the piece of my mind I had held onto before.
“Hi, how are you doing?” she asked, her tone kind, her eyes steady.unit13
“I’m fine,” I said curtly, furrowing my brow as a clear warning to her that she did not want to mess with me.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she continued. “But does your son have autism?”
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If I had a dollar for every time some perfect stranger had ud that as their opening line to advi me on how to rai my kid, I’d be a rich woman and probably wouldn’t be eating at Golden Corral.
I flicked a glance at my husband as he soothed my son, who was now less agitated, but still humming and rocking a little. I raid my brow at him, using my highly-developed non
verbals to say, “Here goes another one.”十一法定假日是几天
“Yeah, he has autism,” I replied to the lady, who was waiting patiently.
“Well, I raid a child with autism,” she began.
Great. Now she really felt like she could tell me how to rai my kid. The only thing wor than a clueless person telling you how to rai your special needs child, is someone who does know the deal telling you you’re doing it all wrong.
