Teachable Moments

Grocery shopping. This is one that any parent can relate to. Why do grocery stores have little doo-dads hanging in every aisle? You know what I’m talking about. The things hanging exactly within your kid’s reach if they are sitting in the cart. All stuff you can live without.

And why do they put candy at the checkout? Is that small add on sale worth watching a parent struggle with a screaming child? By now the child has heard no countless times throughout the store. So they are going to go all out for that pack of strawberry flavored bubble gum.

But for the parent with a special needs child it’s different. We are not dealing with the average tantrum. We are dealing with a meltdown. I define a meltdown as a tantrum to the tenth degree. (Maybe it should be a higher degree.)

I’m pretty sure our local grocery store hated me. How many times had I left my cart half full, abandoned in an aisle, as I drug Travis kicking and screaming out the door? And yet I still brought him with me the next time. Maybe today is going to be a good day. Maybe I can get what I need quickly enough.

Before the lighting and the noise would send him over the edge.

People would ask me why I brought him. Knowing that it was likely to not go well. Well because one day he will need to shop for himself. How was I to know what the future would bring? If I had known that you would be able to order groceries online and have them delivered to your house I might not have put us through it!

On one shopping trip we made it through the entire store. We made our way to the dreaded checkout line. I secretly prayed, just one more obstacle. Travis asked for candy. I said no.

And then came the meltdown. It’s never pretty. Where did he learn that word? He tells me I’m ugly. That he hates me.

I’m not sure where I learned it. Maybe a book. Maybe at family therapy. But I ignore him. Reward the good behavior. Ignore the bad behavior whenever possible. He’s attention seeking. So I continue writing my check. (It was a long time ago.) While I ignore him lying on the ground, kicking the cart and screaming.

That’s when the checkout clerk clicks her tongue at me. Clicking while shaking her head back and forth. Like she is disappointed in me. And then the person behind me in line asks me if I let him behave like that everywhere.

Oftentimes I wished I had a laminated sheet to hand people. (Laminated so I could use it over and over.) Telling our story, that our son has autism. He is overstimulated. I think if they knew our story they may be more compassionate. Maybe even pat me on the back.

And when you look at Travis you cannot see his disability. His brain is wired differently. He is not physically disabled.

Is it possible that people would be nicer if they knew?

My question, is why can’t people be compassionate without knowing my story? Why do people automatically jump to the conclusion that I don’t know how to parent?

Ultimately I say nothing. I grab my cart and leave the store. With Travis still laying on the floor. Kicking and screaming. He comes out while I am loading the groceries. (I’m pretty sure if he hadn’t I would have gone back in to get him.)

What I would like for everyone to know and understand is this - when a child is having a tantrum or a meltdown, it is not a teachable moment. Not only can they not comprehend, they are not even hearing what you’re saying.

So when I am behind a tired mom in the grocery line I see her. I understand her. And I hear her kid ask for candy. I send her “positive” vibes. She says no. Now I am sending her “stay strong” vibes. And she says no. I’m thinking “way to go”! The kid starts to throw a tantrum and she relents. Inside I think, nooo! Because she has rewarded bad behavior. And the tantrum is likely to happen again next time.

But my face and body language are silent.

If she glances at me I give her a compassionate smile.

Because I do not know her story. And she looks like she could use a smile.

And because I have learned to be compassionate.

Raising Travis has turned me into the person I am supposed to be. A better person.

“What the world needs now, is love sweet love. It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of. What the world needs now, is love sweet love. No, not just for some, but for everyone.” - Hal David