Autism Day

This story begins ten-people deep in line at a snack bar, at a major-league sport complex. The major-league team was holding Autism Day, both to raise awareness and benefit kids with autism, and I was there to volunteer. Autism Day has become quite popular and crowded, with families bringing their kids to play on a moon-bounce and do arts and crafts. It is also incredibly well thought-out and designed: there are activities for kids who are extroverts, and activities for kids who are introverts, and quiet rooms for kids who need to rest from the noise and bustle. There’s a level of forgiveness, acceptance and understanding not often present in the outside world. Quite frankly, I wish that I had a quiet room to which I could repair in crowded spaces. It’s a fantastic concept.

Such a happy thing.

The three-year-old girl in front of me in line lost her balloon. She was standing with her dad and mom, walking beside her stroller, and I saw dad jump to grab at the string as the balloon drifted to the ceiling of the stadium. He missed, and the pained look on his face seemed to count down the seconds until his daughter melted down , as though he were waiting on the shoreline for missiles to strike from countries overseas.

When the girl erupted into tears, both parents went into damage control mode. Dad lifted her. She looked up and reached skyward for her balloon, and cried even harder. They placed her on her back in her stroller, but as luck had it, it was reclined at a perfect angle to view her wayward balloon. She held out her hands like a person trying to touch the moon. She cried harder yet.

Mom and dad, now not sure what to do as the line to the snack bar crept forward, had an idea: they would pull a built-in rain-roof over the stroller, obstructing the view of the balloon. Dad did this with haste. They had forgotten that the rain-roof had a skylight that perfectly framed the balloon on the ceiling, and the sound that came from the closed stroller was that of pure torture. At last, they wheeled her away.

There would be no chicken fingers that day.