A Moment of Well-Deserved Pride
For all those autistic people who have an opportunity to avoid ever entering Burlington Coat Factory....BY ALL MEANS, AVOID IT.
I, who needed a good winter coat for Asher, could not avoid it. Piles of boxes thrown chaotically everywhere. Voracious shoppers. You want to run screaming out of the place, but can't even do that very easily, because it is a maze of boxes randomly stacked and thrown everywhere, leading to dead ends. I spent what felt like two hours there, my neurons silently screaming.
This morning, however, I allowed myself a moment of quiet pride at the sight of Asher. Not just his essence- who he was, but HOW HE WAS RIGGED OUT. Not even the most established, married, doctor-professorish family in this town could have a complaint with their child being rigged out similarly.
The London Fog parka with the furry, dense lining. The matching hat with earflaps! The Sorrell slip-on boots, the slip-on-ness being of extreme importance, because my eight year old Asher cannot yet tie laces.
Even Asher seemed transformed with pride in his lovely gear. He waddled triumphantly into school, with that particular walk that children have when they have new, dazzling winter outfits! His cheeks even seemed extra plump- a result of the endless latkes I've fried and fried and fried over the last eight days.
It's so nice to see one's hard work pay off. I've had to set my sights on so many Long Hauls...pleasant to have a Short Haul now and then.
I, who needed a good winter coat for Asher, could not avoid it. Piles of boxes thrown chaotically everywhere. Voracious shoppers. You want to run screaming out of the place, but can't even do that very easily, because it is a maze of boxes randomly stacked and thrown everywhere, leading to dead ends. I spent what felt like two hours there, my neurons silently screaming.
This morning, however, I allowed myself a moment of quiet pride at the sight of Asher. Not just his essence- who he was, but HOW HE WAS RIGGED OUT. Not even the most established, married, doctor-professorish family in this town could have a complaint with their child being rigged out similarly.
The London Fog parka with the furry, dense lining. The matching hat with earflaps! The Sorrell slip-on boots, the slip-on-ness being of extreme importance, because my eight year old Asher cannot yet tie laces.
Even Asher seemed transformed with pride in his lovely gear. He waddled triumphantly into school, with that particular walk that children have when they have new, dazzling winter outfits! His cheeks even seemed extra plump- a result of the endless latkes I've fried and fried and fried over the last eight days.
It's so nice to see one's hard work pay off. I've had to set my sights on so many Long Hauls...pleasant to have a Short Haul now and then.