Autism Rocks

"I like autism rallies!" Daughter said with a pizza sauce smeared smile, hauling her booty to the car.

We went with Jules at Grrraphics (I link to her rather excellent illustration blog), and her two sons, the eldest having high-functioning autism. We grabbed our signs and kept an eye on our brood of kids who were either playing with the Thomas the Tank Engine set or getting their faces painted.

Daughter not only got her face painted but also wrangled some Madonna-esque gloves and a fake hair scrunchie.

The speeches begun. Daughter grabbed a sign herself and left us to stand front and centre to listen. She must have been pretty attentive because she was on the 6 o'clock news and had her photo taken by two newspapers.

On the flip side, she obviously learned a few things because she asked a bevy of questions at the dinner table. Mind you, I was kind of hoping she'd see that not all autistic kids are like her friend; that her friend is doing alright because of the very hard, tenacious work of his parents and his workers. But, of course, all the kids there were super well-behaved.

Except for Baby Boy.

Ugh, the kid was screaming all through the speeches and wouldn't keep still any other time. When we went out for lunch afterward, well, my friend's boys were quite astonished by his behaviour. Yeah, it didn't make for witty banter over the pomme frites, let me tell you.

But this too shall pass.