How many times have you seen someone zip into an accessible parking space, and wondered whether the person genuinely needs it? Well, unfortunately, some people selfishly abuse the few systems intended to make life a little easier for those with disabilities.
Other times, people jump the gun, and very occasionally those snap judgments come back to bite them in their ignorant backsides.
This is exactly what happened in Michigan recently, when the following anon note was left on Matt Milstead's BMW in the YMCA car park:
“I would love to see your wheelchair! I’m guessing male 25-35 years professional who thinks he’s got the world by the ass. But I could be wrong.”
And wrong you were. For the record, the owner of the car does, in fact, own a wheelchair and did, in fact, have his parking pass on display at the time. Milstead is quadriplegic. He's also successful. Why should one necessarily preclude the other?
"...if you are willing to give him your functioning hands and legs for the rest of your life in exchange for his 6-year old BMW and handicapped parking pass, I’m sure he’d make that trade," wrote Leslie, Milstead's very miffed wife, on her Facebook page.
No wonder she was pissed. Over the years Milstead has been verbally abused and had his car keyed by total strangers.
So the next time you see someone pull into a designated space, stop and think—hard. Give them the benefit of the doubt.
It goes without saying, many disabilities aren't immediately apparent. There is almost always more to the story than meets the eye. The wise would remember that wonderful Oscar Wilde quote:
“When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.”
Image credit: Flickr | taberandrew
Heading off a tantrum is bad enough at home, but when you go out to dinner with a child on the spectrum, you go armed with lots of blind faith and a nest of bunnies up your sleeve. Even typical kids can struggle in a restaurant setting. The usual preparations apply double so with kids who have extra needs.
If your child has had a busy or scheduled day, resist the urge to go out. (Conversely, if you have dinner reservations, make sure to keep your child's afternoon as low-key as possible.) The ensuing sensory overload could be the proverbial straw on the camel's back. Disappointing as it is for parents and other siblings, sometimes you have to weigh up whether you want to eat out so badly that it's worth potentially enduring a public meltdown. In my experience, most people will be understanding, and most children will be grateful to eat takeout in the oasis of their home.
It goes without saying that the child should not be ravenous. Have him eat a small snack to tie him over either before you arrive at the restaurant or while you wait. It also goes without saying that you don't take him to a posh place. I'm not saying you have to settle for Swiss Chalet every time (not that there's anything wrong with that!). But out of respect for others, I wouldn't take my son somewhere I'd go for a precious date night, either.
Many restaurants provide crayons, but if your child—like mine—isn't interested in colouring, pack small, Happy Meal-type toys reserved for such occasions so their novelty appeal remains. While I know lots of people frown upon using tablets in a restaurant, I swear by mine. Particularly for kids with autism, screen time is one of the best reinforcers and distractions, again provided it is otherwise limited. As for those who balk at this idea... If people witnessed the Tasmanian devil-like alternative, I believe they would happily hand my son an iPad before or after his meal.
But what happens when despite your small arsenal of preventive tactics, your child completely loses their shit? Well, speaking from numerous experiences, the answer depends. Some incidences are recoverable; some are not. It's always judgment call. In some cases all it takes is a well-timed breather in the washroom—e.g. when my son starts screaming at the top of his lungs. If the meltdown escalates or continues, it's time to cut your losses, signal for the bill and a doggy bag.
For one mom, though, the solution wasn't to remove her son from the situation, but to educate the world around her. Leah Lance was out for a birthday dinner at a steakhouse in her hometown of Kincardine. After her autistic son screamed and cried, a party of four made some hurtful comments to Lance then asked to be moved to a different section of the restaurant.