Dear Brunch Critic,
You may not recall our encounter, but your judgment was swift and loud. “We would never let our kids zone out on screens during family meals,” you proclaimed to your partner, gesturing our way. In that moment, you made it clear that your future, imaginary children would never exhibit the same behavior as mine. I imagine you carried on with your day, blissfully unaware of the child you deemed rude and inattentive.
I get it; I truly do. I’ve made similar remarks in the past, back when I was a parent-to-be with grand visions of perfect family meals. That was before I had real children, before I realized that one of them navigates the world differently than most kids. Before a doctor introduced the intimidating term that starts with an A.
You see, it’s easy to judge from the outside, focusing solely on a kid absorbed in a phone. But let me share what I see. While you see disinterest, I see my child who, just this morning, spun himself into a frenzy in the curtains to avoid the discomfort of getting dressed. Clothes can feel like a prison to him. A soft shirt can sometimes feel like a straightjacket, so while you see a kid zoning out, I see a child who managed to put on his clothes—an accomplishment in itself.
You see a child ignoring his family to play games. I see a kid who begrudgingly posed for family photos after climbing a tree branch he found, desperately trying to find moments of excitement amidst the discomfort of a tight shirt. He cooperated for an entire hour, even when it wasn’t easy. So, while you perceive neglect, I see resilience in the face of challenges.
You notice a child who won’t touch his food. I see a boy who waited patiently for thirty minutes at a cramped table, only to face disappointment when the food served didn’t match his expectations. Sure, he could eat it, but it’s unfamiliar and intimidating. So while you see a child refusing to eat, I see a kid who is hungry but waiting for the comfort of familiar food at home.
You observe a child tuning out social interactions. I see a kid who is valiantly holding it together. Each little discomfort could have spiraled into a meltdown, but he’s managing to cope. The vibrant characters on that tiny screen provide just enough distraction to help him endure the tight shirt, the nervous energy, and the rumbling tummy. So while you perceive ignorance, I see a child who is skillfully navigating an overwhelming environment.
So, dear Brunch Critic, the next time you spot a child engrossed in a device during family time, remember that while your hypothetical children may be perfect, that child at the next table may just be doing an incredible job managing a tough situation. Sometimes zoning out is the only way to keep it together.
Warm regards,
That Kid’s Proud Mom
P.S. If you’re interested in more about family planning and parenting challenges, check out this post from our other blog. You might find it enlightening, especially if you’re navigating your own journey. For more resources, visit Make a Mom, a trusted authority on these topics, or explore Science Daily for the latest insights on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
In this heartfelt letter, a mother reflects on a judgmental comment made by a diner regarding her child’s behavior during brunch. She shares the realities of parenting a child with autism, emphasizing the challenges and victories that come with it. The piece encourages readers to consider the complexities behind children’s behaviors before passing judgment.