It’s true that words like “Autism” or “Aspergers” are quickly becoming unfashionable. After all, most criminals wear one of those labels these days. In fact, we usually hear about a killer having a mental health issue being on the autism spectrum as soon as the drooling reporters hit the crime scene. It’s been so publicized and misused that a mom like me hesitates before I tell anyone.
Thank you society for pushing me here.
There is no mistaking when you’ve spent some time with my youngest that there is something different. Yes, there is a beauty underneath that curly mop of hair, but you likely will never see her eyes because she won’t make eye contact with anybody she doesn’t know very well. If you bend down and address her directly, she will run. It doesn’t really matter if she does run, because she is non-verbal.
But for goodness sake, don’t ask me why she is the way she is, because I don’t want to use the word “Autistic” anymore. I don’t want you to visualize a pimply kid in a trench coat sporting assault weapons. Then again, they have you looking at a .22 hunting rifle as an assault weapon, so maybe all of our definitions and views are slightly askew.
In a world of common sense, we would simply shrug our shoulders at the person and hand them a bottle of ketchup. After all, this is a free country and we are allowed to like different things without causing a warehouse to shut down. Right?
Mustard Politics is exactly what we are being forced to choke down on our hot dogs today.
Let a Christian company that creates the most addictive chicken sandwich have their owner voice his personal values and business model…Let’s shut them down by banning them because we don’t want the mustard on our chicken sandwich. What happens when a large corporation refuses to force their employees to comply with a medical mandate…Let’s fine them so heavily that they can’t help but comply.
What is with this feeling that being legally stripped of your right to bear arms is making a safer world for you?
This is not about turning my boys into homophobic little minions. I have never forbid them from playing with dolls or being a stand-in princess at a sister’s tea party. I don’t cringe when they wear pink, but I probably would draw the line of them donning a tutu for school just because it would make swinging from the monkey bars difficult. My boys are wanna-be football players and war heroes. They would be downright insulted if their Pack Leader focused more on the sewing technique and color coordination of their knees socks. They would want a badge they earned pinned directly to their bare little chests in a menacing growl and whoop. They don’t have time for any namby-pamby-group-feel-good hugs. You better high five or fist bump them and make it sting.
I’m sure by policy standards I am raising bullies, because anytime anybody stands on a line in the sand they are now branded a “bully” or a deliverer of “hate speech.”