On a sunny day in Southern California, my husband took our two older sons to the local lagoon for some fun in the water, leaving me at home with our youngest, Ethan, who has autism. We settled into our usual Sunday routine: attending church followed by some playtime at home. Just as we arrived at church, I received a text from the nursery asking me to come pick up Ethan. This was expected, as he often struggles in that environment, but I was determined to make it a great day despite the hiccup.
After church, Ethan enjoyed some time outside, where he was learning to engage in play. With a bit of encouragement from his therapist, he finally went down the slide and swung for a whole minute. It might seem trivial, but for us, it was a victory.
The day seemed promising; we had a two-hour break before Ethan’s next therapy session. We decided to treat ourselves to lunch at a fast-food restaurant during off-peak hours to minimize any unwanted attention, especially if Ethan had a meltdown. His therapist, wearing her bright and colorful pants, was just as excited as I was to try a new store. Exploring new places can be intimidating for Ethan, but his therapist reassured me that it would be okay.
Initially, everything went smoothly, and I felt a wave of relief. We were shopping, and Ethan was doing well—until suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. I can’t pinpoint what triggered it; perhaps it was the lighting, the colorful displays, or an unfamiliar scent, but in an instant, Ethan was overwhelmed. My heart sank as I watched him collapse onto the floor, screaming and banging his head against the hard tiles. His therapist stepped in quickly, urging me to stay back. I wanted to rush to him, but I knew that would only escalate the situation.
As I stood there, tears welling up, I could feel the stares of other shoppers piercing through me. Their whispers and giggles faded into the background as I focused on Ethan, who was lost in his distress. It felt like an eternity before he finally calmed down, and by then, I was emotionally drained. We managed to check out without further incident, but just as we were leaving, Ethan melted down again. This time, we were close to our car, away from prying eyes, but the humiliation was overwhelming when a woman yelled, “Take him home already!” My heart broke; I wanted to explain that Ethan isn’t naughty—he just experiences the world differently due to his autism.
To the untrained eye, Ethan’s behavior might seem like that of a spoilt child—flailing in the shopping cart, kicking, hitting, and even attempting to lash out at strangers who inadvertently invade his space. However, this is our reality, and I remain vigilant against well-meaning strangers who don’t understand. When we first began applied behavior analysis (ABA) therapy, Ethan couldn’t sit still in a shopping cart for long. Our outings were limited to familiar places, like Target, where I followed the same route every time.
I’ve faced countless comments and disapproving looks throughout our journey. One of the hardest moments was when some acquaintances from a local tee-ball team laughed about Ethan’s meltdowns, knowing full well he has autism. It hurt deeply, but I focus on my kids, trying to block out the negativity.
What many don’t realize is that Ethan’s brain processes the world differently. He struggles to communicate his needs, and I do my best to anticipate what he might react to. He thrives on routine and predictability, and new environments can overwhelm him. When he’s quiet on the ground, it’s often his way of absorbing unfamiliar surroundings. He craves sensory input and often needs to move to feel his body, which might seem unusual but is part of his reality.
Ethan isn’t naughty; he’s simply learning to navigate a world that can be chaotic and unpredictable. I ask that you refrain from judging him or me. We are doing our best, and your understanding means the world to us. For more insights on navigating parenting challenges, you can check out this resource.
In summary, please remember that children like Ethan are not misbehaving; they are simply facing challenges that require patience and understanding. Your empathy can make a world of difference.