Horror in the checkout line

Hey guys, a while back I found this short story in my dad's mac book air(labtop).
When I first read this story I realized I had to put it on my blog.....

Again this dad's story of me.






Watching your children grow up is a process subject to extremes; one moment it feels like you're watching Swan Lake from the front row, other times it's like watching a 40 car pileup on the freeway.... in slow motion.

We've had our share of pile ups watching our son Matthew grow up into the young man that he is today. For those of you that are casual readers, our son Matt is autistic. I won't bore you with the clinical details of Matt's condition, suffice it to say that autism causes Matt to live in his own little world, but as he likes to say "It's OK, they know me here."

One of the more agonizing traits of Matthew's flavor of autism is his lack of a proper inner monologue; in other words.... what he thinks, he says. Occasionally the humor of the moment is lost in the abject horror of having to explain to someone that "he couldn't help himself." One such instance, for example, was a trip to the grocery store with Matt. He and I are standing in line waiting for our turn at the register, when a very (very) large man gets in line behind us. Did I mention he was huge? We're talking a guy so large, that it didn't matter who you were, you would look at him and say to yourself "Oh my God! That man is huge!"

I should take a moment to clarify here. There is Hulk Hogan huge, there is "The Rock" huge, and there is Lyle Alzedo huge. This guy was none of those. This guy was Jaba the Hutt huge. There, I just wanted to make sure that we were all on the same page as to what type of huge we were talking about. You know, Jared before all of the Subway sandwiches. But I digress.

So we're in line getting ready to check out, and it suddenly occurs to me that Matt is watching this gentleman intently. Simultaneously I get a sinking feeling, and a prickling of the hair on the back of my neck. Something is about to go down. I quickly say a prayer to Saint Albertson that the checker finishes and we can skidaddle out of there post haste. The last item is scanned, debit card scanned.... almost home free........

"Dad!!!"

(oh no!)

"Dad, that man needs to poop really bad!"

Hmm can I run faster than he can? Most likely, but how to salvage this social train wreck? Being resourceful I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Little boy, where's your dad? Didn't I just see him walk out? You better go catch him. I'll go with you to make sure you find him.

Why do I share this story with you? Well, my boy has grown up quite a bit since that unfortunate incident, but the inner monologue is only slightly improved. In other words, for the most part, he still speaks his mind, often with no regard to the consequences. And if that weren't enough, he's started his own blog. I told him it would be a good way to express himself without necessarily getting beaten up.

You can catch his posts at: Walking In My Shoes

Please feel free to post a comment or two, he loves the feedback and it gives him validation that he has an audience.

Where's my margarita?

-Frank


Remember I am still making new posts everyday!!!!!!

-Matthew Ryan Azevedo