My Whac-A-Mole Life: April 2012   

To 'I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers' - An AutismPositivity2012 Flash Blog Event

***This post is part of a community-wide flash blog event, responding to an anonymous Google search for "I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers." Read more here: Autism Positivity Day Flash Blog Event.

To: I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers,

I am writing this because you could be my child. I am writing this because it  is my responsibility as a parent of a child on the autism spectrum to relay this message every day - so you will grow up to be proud of your identity. The problem is, WHAT IS THE RIGHT MESSAGE?

This question rips me apart because, of course, it pains me to see my children struggle against the grain every day. Of course, I want them to take pride in themselves and be proud of their identity. It's true that being “wired differently” actually furnishes them with some very cool and unique attributes.

However, as their mother, I understand your plea. And you know what? I WISH THEY DIDN’T HAVE THEIR DIAGNOSES, TOO!

This sentiment is extraordinarily polarizing; some might even say it stigmatizes their existence. Of course not! It's okay to lament something that makes one struggle, which we wish were different about ourselves. Every human being does it - whether it's as mundane as math homework, athletic ability or hair color…or as magnanimous as your distress.

Psychologists tell us that struggles in life can foster resilience, a highly valuable attribute for anyone. Resilience might even make us live longer. But, seriously, nobody really WANTS to struggle. And watching someone you love struggle is equally as (or arguably more) painful.

If you've indeed arrived here wishing you don’t have Aspergers, you're not going to fall for me telling you: “You are wrong. Autism is a gift.” (So are Dyslexia, ADD, Down Syndrome and everything else, according to a multitude of books on Amazon.com.) I celebrate differences. I embrace and learn from different schools of thought. But tell me, who, when expecting a baby, thinks: "I really, really hope this baby will have autism.”

Still, just as each person has their own eye color, certain innate strengths and skills, many also have autism. And their place in this world is as important and valid as any other person’s. I agree that the challenges you face are greater than some...but also fewer than others. That’s life.

I cannot validate or invalidate your concerns or expectations. For all of us, life is full of joys and disappointment, and each of us just must do the best we can with what we've got. I suspect you have worked harder on developing yourself than the majority. As I think about it, autistic children easily could emerge from countless hours of therapy and special needs services with a shattered self-image and belief that they have unacceptable “deficits.” I mean, imagine if we all worked as hard on ourselves as those we send to therapy week after week! The world might be a much better place; but we’d probably all suffer from low self-esteem.

Some might fault society for these feelings of inadequacy. No doubt, there is a widespread lack of awareness and tolerance for differences. But the part of autism that’s not okay is the part that spins my daughter out of control...or results in too many children drowning in lakes. I cannot accept that. I see that many on the spectrum overcome these urges, needs and drives as they mature, but "overcoming" anything requires strength, work and persistence. Every. Single. Day. I admire that.

My dear "I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers," if you are not thinking this, I am: Why should you listen to me? How could I possibly understand the complexities of your despair. I am an autism parent; not a peer.

Well, I do hope that you have your own family, mentors or friends looking out for you, doing the best they can for you - like I try to do for my children. So I can assure you that, while this help might sometimes be misguided, it usually comes from a place of love and support. Please TELL the people making you feel bad what's going on. As a parent, I'd want to know.

Remember, Aspies think very differently. Just as you might struggle to understand others’ motivations and feelings, they often are befuddled by yours. Please allow us work together to understand each other better.

If you do not have someone in your life who can fill that role, you must make that a priority. Start here. Click on the pretty button above and read all of these posts. I am about to do the same, knowing that the journey will take me through stages of agreement, disagreement, anger, admiration and education. Yet, I appreciate each post.

There has never been more awareness and dialogue around Aspergers and Autism than now. I am lucky, as a parent of a young child with autism, that I have access to a multitude of resources, ideas and support, including (and especially) amazing teens and adults on the spectrum willing to share a glimpse into their worldview. Since my daughter cannot speak for herself, they can - as much as any individual can understand another  – help me help her. Perhaps they can do the same for you.

Please continue searching, growing and connecting with others. And let us know what you’ve learned. Because if there's anything we all can agree on it's this: We all have a lot to learn.

“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” --Aristotle

My 10 Superpowers: Monday Listicle

I'm not the most prolific blogger, but I assure you I am way more prolific than I should be. For example, right now, I should be checking off numbers 3, 5 and 42 on my seemingly stagnant "to do" list. (Seriously. It's like the Dead Sea Scrolls!)

Still, I've over-committed my fake, blogging self this week (now mirroring my real, live self every week). So, I am going to stagger these posts a little...thus explaining why you are seeing my Monday post as early as Saturday. (If you're reading this on Thursday, kindly disregard everything I just said and PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!)

So today, I present my first "Monday" Listicle. See, bloggers like to play these little games. I guess sitting alone with a keyboard for too long makes the loonies even loonier. But it's true that these memes, linkups and series present fun opportunities to challenge each other creatively, connect with new blogs and get to know the wizards behind the curtain a little better.

They also inspire a little friendly competition - whether it be for votes, clicks, comments or blogger love. (Come on, which of you bloggers isn't drooling to hear: "Your meme was the absolute, most brilliant, smartest and funniest EVER!" No? Liar!)

Anyway, I've decided to jump into a few this week ("Hey Girl"...um, no not that one - yet - but it is awesome so do check out the Special Needs Ryan Gosling Meme over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood.).

I present you my very first Monday Listicle. 
Here's how it works. Each week, someone puts out a list idea and then you just go with it. And of course we all linky up to each other to share and share alike. It's fun to see so many perspectives on the same "assignment" and a great way to connect with other bloggers. Remember, the linkup for this series will only be active beginning Monday.

This week's topic: List 10 things you really like about yourself, things you are good at, your superpowers!

  1. Telepathy. At least with my kids. That's right. I kind of can read their minds. Especially with my daughter with autism. I can look around the room and know instantly what she plans to upturn, eat, steal and destroy. Unfortunately, my telepathic sense appears to work one-way only. My kids have absolutely NO IDEA what I'm thinking...even when I say it out loud.

  2. Meeting deadlines. But only drop-dead, final, this-is-your-last-chance deadlines. I'm good at those.

  3. Talking fast.  Not as in smarmy fast, but speed-wise. This is helpful at doctor's appointments, and the game Taboo. Sometimes, I get impatient when others don't talk/move/think as quickly as I. So you see, there's lots of irony in this. Someone up there was thinking: "You know what would be really funny? Let's give the mom with the least amount of patience those two kids who require the most amount of patience." Well played.

  4. Googling. Sure, everyone can Google. But, trust me, no one can Google like I can. I am your Google Guru. If it's out there, I assure you, I will find it. I'm like the Lisbeth Salander of Google.

  5. I'm a good speler. (Actually, I really am.) And I type supremely fast. What do I win?

  6. Not being depressed. I know that doesn't sound like much of a superpower. And it's not really a choice for those struggling with clinical depression. But I do know what happens if I slow down and start thinking about my children's future. The spiral is tough to fight. Yes, I know "there are tulips" in Holland (this is an autism reference -  I'll try to post the "Welcome To Holland" piece sometime or you can always Google it), but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it 24/7. The day-to-day challenges of raising my children - any children - are hard enough, let alone dwelling on the "what ifs" and the "where will they bes". So yeah, I manage to get up, get dressed (on most days) and smile. In homage to one of my fave Twitter pal handles: where's my cape?

  7. Finding a needle in a haystack. Or rather finding a lone sock in a laundry pile. Or the last remaining pair of girl's leggings in the house that's not filthy, holey or fuschia. Then again, I might not be so terrific at this. Not really sure, but I am LIGHTYEARS ahead of the other people living in this place.

  8. My profession. I don't mention my "work" very much on this blog and I won't go into it here, but I'm pretty damn good at what I do...when I do it!

  9. Sleeping. When I actually get the chance to sleep, it's the deepest of sleep you can sleep. I mean, literally, our burglar alarm will blast, sirens will blare, thunder and lightning will crash, and I don't even roll over. I find that sometimes it just gets incorporated into my dreams. I like to think that if my husband weren't around and the kids needed me or the house really was on fire, that I'd wake up. But sometimes I wonder. Maybe I'm just THAT good at sleeping!

  10. This week's listicle allowed us to choose from two questions. Obviously the first question was about my superpowers...but I'm running out of ideas. So for #10, I'm going with the second question, which is this: You have 48 hours free of all responsibilities and unlimited cash, what would you do, places you’d go, etc. Easy. All the money is used for good. Let's cure diseases, support charities, and generally fix stuff. As for me, you'll find me sleeping in bajillion thread-count sheets with sweet kisses goodnight from my kiddos and a stack of books nearby.

  11. What about you?

We Are Here: A Community Mobilizes To Help Its Own

A few months ago, I started writing my story in the form of this blog. I didn't know then and still do not know where it will lead me, but along the way I discovered a fulfilling, new community of friends. We live across America and across the globe, and we speak to each other daily in 140 characters or less.

Since most of us are connected as parents of children with special needs or even as inspiring adults on the spectrum, we have a bond of empathy and shared experience, so 140 characters is all we need (and we don't have much time for more).

When we have more to say, we often blog it. When I logged into Blogger for the first time, I had no idea - or maybe just didn't really care - that I was pretty much entering a foreign country with its own politics, language and monetary system (think likes, retweets, follows and sponsors instead of dollars and cents). However, perhaps because membership in this particular niche is so bittersweet, this community embraces newcomers warmly, even though they might need some TSL lessons first (Twitter as a second language).

The truth is that many of us feel more connected with this empathetic online community than we do IRL. So while I had no intention of taking on yet ANOTHER cause in my life beyond those living in my house, I am motivated to do what any good neighbor does - help in times of need. I also have adopted the group zeitgeist. One person's outrage becomes group outrage, and we all know that hell hath no fury like an online community scorned.

Today, I am sharing two important posts that have changed my worldview just a little bit. Both were generated by my fellow bloggers who know:

1. The stylus is mightier than the sword.
2. The world is a rough place - especially for those struggling to navigate it --but we've got each other's back.

Take a look:

When Teachers Are The Bullies: It's About Dignity
Please watch Akian's story. It's hard. You probably will cry. You will be outraged. It's what keeps me up at night. (Metaphorically, of course...we all know that I have two actual, crazy kids keeping me up at night. But this too!) Still, I implore you to watch. How is is possible that people like this are teaching children? It's about dignity!

Calling All Bloggers: To "I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers" - An AutismPositivity2012 Flash Blog Event
Whether you believe you are a qualified participant in this Autism Positivity "Flash Blog" or not, take a moment to think about how you would respond to this person...or to any person who expresses that they wish they were someone else. To someone who must live with an unwelcome identity that they cannot change. I can't wait to read all of the wonderful blog posts next Monday. I have no idea yet what I will write, but I so badly want to do it. After all, one day this could be my child.


I hope and pray that Akian's family and the nameless Googler  -- as well as all those whom they inevitably represent -- find some comfort, support and camaraderie among this amazing community, just as I have.

When Teachers Are The Bullies: It's About Dignity


Originally posted on Yeah. Good Times. Republished on
My Whac-A-Mole Life with permission.

Note from Jill Smo: Feel free to reprint this post anywhere you like, just please include the links to the sites I have at the bottom. I don't need to be credited for it, but Stuart does. 



Outrage for Akian: It's About Dignity
I know I said I was tired of talking about autism, but this is something I just can't stay quiet about. 

I've spent a lot of time here talking about how one of the most frustrating things about autism, for me, is that when Child 1 is upset, he has so much trouble telling me why, that oftentimes I just won't ever know. When he comes home from school upset, which luckily doesn't happen often, I will do anything and everything to try to find out why. Can you imagine if your sweet and happy autistic child started getting aggressive at school for no reason, how much you would try to find out why? Do you know the lengths you would go to for your child? I would do whatever it took, I can tell you that. Whatever it took.

I saw a video today, posted on reddit. It was of a father whose sweet and happy autistic child, exactly Child 1's age, suddenly started getting aggressive and violent at school and he had no idea why. They had IEP meetings, they met with a Behaviorist, he worked the system just like he was "supposed to," for 6 months. But when he got nowhere, he played a hunch, put a wire on his kid and sent him to school to record what happened there.

It turned out that his son, Akian, was being verbally abused by his teacher and aide in his classroom. I'm posting the video below, but I have to warn you that it is VERY upsetting. I had a hard time getting through it all, but I will sum it up for you.

It's mostly Akian's dad, Stuart, describing what happened, and you also hear some of the recording of the horrible things those people say to him.


They called him a bastard. These adults, whose job was to protect and help and teach children... they laughed at him, made fun of him and called him a bastard.  I'm horrified by this.

Stuart turned his recording over to the school district, and also the media. An aide was fired but the teacher was not. The school district has said that it has handled the matter appropriately and apparently they think the matter is closed.

Stuart doesn't think the matter is closed. In the video he says directly to the adults involved: "I want a public apology for what you did to my son. I want your full name out. I want you to come forward. I want you to take responsibility for what you do and then I want you to resign.... Not for me, but so one day I can play this video back for my son and say, 'Akian, you didn't deserve anything that happened to you. These people are at fault.' I'm not looking to sue anybody. I'm not going to file a lawsuit. It's not about money. It's about dignity. This is to reclaim my son's dignity. You owe it to him."

Let's help him get the word out. Below the video I'm posting some links where you can get more information. 



***Note from My Whac-A-Mole Life: To really experience this video, you actually have to watch it. There are subtitles and captions that you will miss if you are just listening.




I'm turning off commenting for this post, because this isn't about me. Also, I want to be clear, and Stuart was clear in  the interview that he did for his local Fox affiliate, that this isn't about the 99% of teachers who are great at what they do, this is about the 1% that aren't, and I don't want this to turn into a discussion about education reform and teacher unions or any of that bullshit. If you want to comment on the video, get more information or give Stuart your support, please go to the Facebook page and do it there.

Calling All Bloggers


Reprinted with permission from Autism Positivity

To "I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers": An AutismPositivity2012 Flash Blog Event


A couple of weeks ago, someone somewhere googled “I Wish I Didn’t Have Aspergers”.  The phrase popped up in a blogging dashboard and struck the blogger as being particularly sad.  She wished she could have answered.

We don’t know who it was.  We don’t know where he/she lives.  We have no idea if he/she found what he/she was looking for in that search.

We do know that search directed that person to a blog.  We do know the searcher clicked on it in an attempt to find what they needed.  And we do know enough about the challenges of autism to know that person is likely not alone in that sentiment.

So, we got to thinking.  What would we say to that person?  What if it was a kid, desperately trying to make it through tough years of intolerance and ignorance?  What if it were a person who might never stumble across the amazing voices speaking for autism acceptance?  What if that person thought himself/herself all alone?  What would we say about the present?  What would we say about the future?  What would we say about happiness?  And hope?

Each of us in the autism community –- self-advocates, parent advocates, friends and family, teachers, health professionals—we would all have different messages for #IWishIDidn’tHaveAspergers.  But likely we would all try to send the message that there is a brighter future and that friendship and support are out there.
We are asking every blogger in the autism community to write a message of positivity to #IWishIDidntHaveAspergers.  So that next time that individual (or another) types that sad statement into Google, he or she will find what they need – support, wisdom, and messages of hope from those who understand.

And – for those of you who do not blog but wish to join in – please post your positivity message to http://autismpositivity.wordpress.com/ or send us an email at autismpositivity@gmail.com
Please join with us on the last day of Autism Awareness/Acceptance Month – April 30th – in a flash blog of autism positivity.

To participate:
  1. Publish your post on April 30th in the following title format:  “[Your Blog] to ‘I Wish I Didn’t Have Aspergers: #AutismPositivity2012”.
  2. Share your post on Twitter and Facebook, using that hashtag.
  3. Add your link to the Autism Positivity website and grab the badge:
  4. Share/reblog this message to your blog, page, etc.

This Autism Positivity Flash Blog Event is the brainchild of Thinking About Perspectives, a group of bloggers committed to increasing autism awareness and acceptance via open and respectful dialogue.  We are:  30 Days of AutismOutrunning the StormThe Third GlanceAspie KidFlappiness IsQuirky and LaughingLife on the SpectrumFairy Tale ForgottenThe Aspie Side of Life, and Inner Aspie.

All Kids Do That: Obsessions

I'm willing to bet that even if your kid's issues aren't as screwed up complex as mine, you've heard this phrase before: "Oh, all kids do that."

I know it's meant to be comforting. But to an anxious parent - who has bravely put their worst fears out there - I posit that it instills reassurance maybe 1-3 percent of the time.

The other 97-99 percent of the time, it likely does the opposite. It can belittle, demean and certainly invalidate a parent's instincts.

My child's speech seems to be regressing!
"Oh, all kids do that. As one skill develops, others might go under the radar. Give it some time."

My child is waking up at night with an excruciating headache.
"Oh, all kids do that. He's probably having nightmares. Or allergies. Give it some time."

Wrong and wrong. 

Today, I'm sitting at the cool kid's table doing my first guest post. Hooray! Jill Smo conceived this awesome "All Kids Do That" series on her snarky, very real blog "Yeah. Good Times."

Head over there to check out her pad, the brilliant "All Kids do That" series, and my very first, bloggy guest post. See you there!




Tales from the Minivan

I drive my kids around in a minivan. A lot. Their schools are more than 25 miles apart in a traffic-heavy city, and neither is close to home. (I am a huge fan of the Gas Buddy app!)

Along these treks, we listen to music, talk, yell, read, complain and laugh. I've learned a lot from my mini-passengers. So I thought I'd share some of the lessons my kids have taught me on the road.

Hope these tips are helpful to someone out there. If you and your kids have additional travel tips to offer, please add them. I need all the help I can get!
  • There IS a better seat. It's the one already occupied by your sibling.
  • Sign language doesn't work so well while driving.
  • Crumbs always make a good snack. And if there's a cup in a cup holder with liquid still in it, it's fair game. 
  • Anything you've placed carefully on the seat to look at later will be all over the van by the time you get home. Many important papers will never again be seen in one piece - especially if a deadline's involved.
  • Songs MUST be played through to the end or the day will be ruined. The exception is songs in which you only like the opening beats. For those: Play. Restart. Play. Restart. Play. Restart (repeat 100 times).
  • Navis make excellent toys. They also serve as wonderful tools for nonverbal children to know where they are or are NOT going...providing additional opportunities for screaming, protests and tantrums.
  • Child locks work ONLY if the child is not able to open them. If the child has autism, he or she eventually WILL learn to open them.
  • Music - no matter how loud - will never be loud enough to drown out a screaming banshee.
  • Car windows can withstand much more heavy banging than one would think.
  • If something's worth the effort of saying out loud, it's a good idea to repeat it every 2 seconds until you get what you want. Patience? Waiting? Huh?
  • It doesn't matter if she's driving on the highway, balancing a cell phone and/or a large Diet Coke, or begging a screaming child to keep her seat belt on...If something needs to be thrown away, just say 'here" and wait for Mom's hand to magically extend.
  • Exiting the van is an act of precision, requiring careful planning, balance and warning. The timing will never be quite right for either child. 
***For tips on maintaining a chic, professional appearance on the road, see Red Light Makeover.
***To see what this family looks like when we exit the minivan, see It's My Blog. I Can Cry If I Want To.

Wordless Wednesday: Really?

Interesting interpretation of a disabled parking spot. And no, I didn't spot a hangtag either!


Draw Something Hall of Shame


I'm a little late to the Draw Something craze, but that's probably because I've been so absorbed with my Scramble, Scrabble, Poker, Mystery Mansion and Hangman habit.

It's been less than a week, and it seems that I now am as addicted as the rest of you. However, I've got a huge problem with this game: I can NOT draw something. I can NOT draw anything.

I'm not being humble or self-critical. I just can't. Occasionally, I might fancy myself a "word artist" and I'm not terrible at photography, but when it comes to traditional art on paper - drawing, painting, sketching - I'm a complete and utter failure. Does your 5-year-old bring home "Art" from pre-k? Mine is worse. If there were an American Idol for doodling, I'd be brought in during audition week as the "I can't believe anyone's that bad" entertainment.

Once, in 4th grade or so, we were doing something with paper mache. (Natch.) I think we were paper macheing our arms or something. Can't imagine why. Anyway, probably to deflect from my lack of talent in art class and simply to be silly, I put my charm bracelet on the paper mache arm. To help you visualize this, think tacky, plastic, neon-colored charms circa late 70s/early 80s; not Pandora. My art teacher happened to pass by at the moment, and deemed it absolutely brilliant. (Art is weird that way.) She loved it. Before I knew what happened, said paper mache art was displayed in the local (nationally renown!) art museum.

It was a complete fluke because of two facts: 1. It was not brilliant. 2. I really suck at art. (And I kind of missed my charm bracelet. Wonder if I ever got it back?)

Still, I defend my right to play "Draw Something"...and not only draw poorly, but revel in it.

I whined-commented a little when I read this article by my TwitterBook friend: Draw Something (That Doesn't Totally Suck). (Disclaimer - none of the examples are mine. He won't play with me...which is good, because mine are worse).

But I then realized he's probably not having as much fun as I. I am hysterical when I'm drawing these bits AND even more so when I have to witness my opponent's attempts to guess the words that I've so ineptly illustrated. If you want a game like this to be fun, play with someone like me. If you want to win - even though there's not really winning at Draw Something - so let's say win something like Pictionary, put me on the other team (even though I'm okay at guessing. BTW, if the game is Taboo or Catchphrase, I'm your girl. Unstoppable!).

Recently, another TwitterBook friend posted some of her not-so-art-museum-worthy pics on Facebook, and I was practically in tears reading the hilarious comments. Basically, Draw Something is the best party game ever - without the party. So, I am going to provide a space for us to share these pictures and the laughter. We all need it!

***Unfortunately, I haven't quite mastered saving my screenshots on Draw Something, so I can't share my absurd depictions of "joystick" or "airport" ... but don't worry. Worse will come.

Please post your own ... if you dare!

How Old Is She?


The question seems innocent enough, right? Not even close. See, when it comes to a giant, 7-year-old nonverbal child with autism, it’s a loaded question. In fact, depending on the inquisitor and tone, it’s like the word “set” (which possesses the most definitions/uses in the English language - rumored to be in the 400s!).

So, allow me to help translate it for you, since I imagine you won't find these definitions on Wikipedia.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: gentle, kind): I know she has autism because I recognize it. I am asking her age because I am empathetic and sensitive. I’m hoping you will volunteer the information so I can tell you all about my sister’s/cousin’s/neighbor’s kid with autism. I might offer you a hopeful message or simply a knowing, supportive smile.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: sweet, cloyingly sympathetic):  I can tell something is wrong with your child. She is not acting anywhere close to her age. I’m slightly nosy and want to appear friendly. I will smile pitifully at you and probably follow up with something like “bless her heart."

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: rushed, alarmed):  I have (or am very close to) a child with special needs, and I am comparing our children. In an instant, I have assessed whether yours is older/younger than mine...yours is speaking better/worse than mine...yours is higher/lower functioning than mine. This comparison is not at all like the competitive nature of suburban, prep-school playgrounds. It’s more about survival, hope and support. Occasionally, resource ideas and therapists’ names will be swapped.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: stern, accusing):  I have no idea what you’ll answer but it doesn’t even matter. She is way too old to be acting this way. I’m not really interested in hearing an explanation for her behavior. She’s bothering me somehow, and you should take her out of here. Have you no shame, lady? Just stay home if you can't handle your child.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: bright; speaker has child of similar age): Are our kids the same age? Will they be in the same class? I embrace and support inclusion...just not in my own daughter's classroom. Oh, I’ll say all the right things and use this as a teachable moment for my children, but in the back of my mind, I foresee that brat ruining my little dumpling's Hannah Montana birthday party. And I just KNOW that you ate too much tuna fish or drank too much while you were pregnant. Really, I’m just relieved that we escaped that statistic and you got the 1 in 88 instead.
***
There are many more. Perhaps one of my supportive readers will add to this list.

Meanwhile, for my sister mothers, I will share one last interpretation of this question which I learned only a few days ago. This scenario is a rare but exciting one. Last week I was asked the same, old question, but in a tone I’ve never heard before. It was like someone speaking in a foreign language. Here’s what happened.
Lady (Tone: casual, hopeful; Setting: store of some kind): HOW OLD IS SHE?
Me  (suspicious, unsure): 7
Lady (holding up two outfits): “Oh good. I'm buying a present for my granddaughter and thought they might be about the same age.”
(Addressing my daughter) “Which one would you like better?”
We were BOTH speechless this time. I explained to the lady that my dear, little girl doesn’t talk and doesn't really share the same interests as others her age...but still I repeated the question for her…and she pointed at one of the outfits (the uglier, more ostentatious one, of course). The lady thanked us sweetly and walked away.

I remained in place, somewhat flabbergasted but delighted that someone considered my daughter to be a typical peer of her age group. Best question ever!

***FOOTNOTE: Please don't EVER ask me “WHAT GRADE IS SHE IN?” There’s only one definition to that one: You are utterly clueless...(not to mention that I have absolutely no idea).