It’s St. Patrick’s Day and maybe my Irish blood has me boiling but I’m about to entertain you with some seriously lazy writing because I’m mad and I want to use all the swears.
My seven year old with autism is aggressively, and dangerously social. If you don’t know what that means, please let me clarify.
She’ll talk to anyone, anywhere about anything and she truly believes you’ll enjoy the interaction just as much as she does.
She’ll chat with her teacher, the lady in the grocery store, her Coach, the border guard, the gas station attendant and even the ex you’re trying to avoid in the grocery store.
She doesn’t understand this is not “normal”.
So when that little blonde spitfire repeatedly tries to engage you in conversation, your ass best take a minute out of your day and acknowledge her!
Sure, she may be about to remark about the size of your belly or the smell of your breath, but she she also might be about to describe, in painful detail, an episode of Power Rangers. Either way, you’re the Jesus grown-up and you need to check in with her to see what she has to say.
Not long ago, there was a time when she could not connect to anyone, and if you think I don’t rejoice every fucking time she makes a connection no matter how odd it may seem, you’d be wrong.
And furthermore, you DO NOT need to remind me that talking to strangers is dangerous. You just let me handle the weeding out of the assholes from the awesome fuckers like you, whom she relishes in chatting with.
Maybe I am asking too much. Maybe your day is far too busy to take thirty seconds to tell her your favourite superhero.
But here’s the thing.
I don’t care.
That’s my girl.
It’s your god damn pleasure to chat with her.
Happy Mail to:
27 Wellington Row
Saint John, NB
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Grace and Kate's mom. (Shanell)