Dear Pizza Delivery Lady.
Really...we weren't beating our son who was screaming insanely when you arrived. He was having a meltdown because his schedule had been changed.
Yes, really it matters to him that his dinner wasn't served between 5:30 and 6, but 6:30 because I was busy unpacking and settling in after getting back in town. That half of an hour *IS* the end of the world to him.
And thank you for asking me what was going on instead of calling the police while listening, outside the house, to my son screaming "Get off me! HELP ME!" repeatedly. Thank you for then saying, "but I thought autistic kids couldn't talk" instead of assuming I was lying while my son let loose with screeches to make the undead cover their ears.
Thank you, Pizza Delivery Lady, for trying to understand a situation that was profoundly disturbing, difficult, and embarassing (for both of us) instead of doing something that would have made our lives even more difficult and embarassing.
Yes, really it matters to him that his dinner wasn't served between 5:30 and 6, but 6:30 because I was busy unpacking and settling in after getting back in town. That half of an hour *IS* the end of the world to him.
And thank you for asking me what was going on instead of calling the police while listening, outside the house, to my son screaming "Get off me! HELP ME!" repeatedly. Thank you for then saying, "but I thought autistic kids couldn't talk" instead of assuming I was lying while my son let loose with screeches to make the undead cover their ears.
Thank you, Pizza Delivery Lady, for trying to understand a situation that was profoundly disturbing, difficult, and embarassing (for both of us) instead of doing something that would have made our lives even more difficult and embarassing.
posted by Hostile in Ohio | 12/08/2008
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