The Stink Eye

I wanted to slug the guy. I mean really. Who did he think he was in his ripped jeans that he was way too old to be trying to pull off, and his Fedora hat much too small for his large head? And to give ME the stink-eye! Really? And then raising his hands as if to ask "What gives". As if I owe him any explanation.

Today was field trip day, and it was my turn to go. I had picked the hospital trip with lunch at the park. I figured it was a short bus ride, so less of a chance that Jacob could be set off by something. I was right about the bus. Jacob did great. So much progress from that first field trip years ago in preschool where he splayed himself out flat in front of the door refusing to get on the bus. He bounded on no problem, and made no mention about the possibility of the bus being loud, or bumpy, or too fast, or anything else he could come up with. His main concern was finding a friend to sit near him.

And so we arrived at the hospital with little fanfare. Ah...what an easy field trip this was going to be! We filed into the building as quiet as first graders can, while they listened to the directions from the hospital staff. We were to ascend the stairs and enter the room where the Medic Bear would be waiting to greet us and then we would proceed with our pretend "play" hospital.

"I don't want to see Medic Bear, " Jacob told me.

"Jacob, It's really no big deal," I said. "Just walk past him and find a seat."

As we entered the room there was Medic Bear handing out high fives as fast as he could to the passing first graders. Thankfully Jacob breezed on by, and followed his class to find a seat on the floor. Whew, that had a recipe for disaster written all over it. Jacob's never been fond of characters, no matter how friendly they appear. They kind of freak him out with their big eyes and ever present smile.

"Mommy, I want you to sit by me," Jacob said as he glanced around the large conference room noticing the hospital bed at the front for the first time.

"Jacob, I'm going to sit here with the rest of the parents," I replied pointing to the rows of chairs set to the side.

"No, mommy by me on the floor," and he took my hand trying to drag me down next to him and his classmates. I knew he was a little nervous. He had no idea what to expect, and I hadn't either so I was unable to prepare him. From what I knew his classmates would be pretending to be medical staff and patients while the true medical staff explained how things work at the hospital.

"Jacob, I'm going to sit here. You sit on the floor right here close to me, " I tell him. He takes a seat near his classmates and I turn to find only one seat available, between a woman I do not know who is busy messing with her phone and a man with a much too small hat who has been taking in the interaction between the two of us. As I sit down, I notice Jacob's teacher has moved closer to him. I'm guessing she could sense his resistance and elevated anxiety from the uncertainty of what to expect.

Things start smoothly and Jacob finds it funny to see his classmates dressed in hospital attire. He's sitting just like the rest of the class, criss-cross applesauce, and no one would know by looking that there is anything different about my son.

"Now I think we need to give our patient an x-ray," I hear the facilitator say regarding the pretend patient.

Uh oh...

No sooner had I thought that, when Jacob stood and said, "I'm leaving. I don't want to see that," and he hurries toward the door without looking to see if anyone was following. Naturally I followed.

I knew x-rays bothered Jacob a little. They never used to. He used to be fascinated by bones when he was in his dinosaur phase. He wanted every dinosaur skeleton out there so he could have his own museum in our house. In fact, for a while we had a sign on our front door charging admission of 25 cents to view his dinosaur museum. But then one day he wanted them out of his room. And so we packed up all the dinosaur bones, and put them in the attic where they still are today. Bones bothered him suddenly. So I knew when she said x-ray, that Jacob wouldn't want to be near it. He's had a chest x-ray before and did just fine. It's not the procedure, just the actual pictures he has no desire to see.

As we are standing in the hallway, his teacher steps out to check on Jacob and let us know that the x-ray portion was done. We head back in and Jacob sits back down next to his teacher. She quietly gives him a task of writing out good behavior slips for his classmates to distract him. I turn to find my seat, and that's when I see the man that had been sitting beside me giving me a disapproving look  with one eye half closed, a snarl to his lip, and hands raised. He's looking me right in the eye, so I know this look is for me. I don't know him, and I'm not about to explain my son's behavior in a full room.

It's happened plenty of times. At the grocery store, restaurants, play places, it doesn't matter. If Jacob isn't acting appropriately as to how someone else thinks a child his age and size should be acting, they look down their noses at me as if it is my fault. As if my parenting skills are lacking. I guess it makes them feel better about themselves and their perfect children.

I try to brush off Stink Eye's stare beside me, but I am annoyed. I can tell by his "hmmf" sound that he is equally annoyed and thinks he is entitled to have an opinion about my son. I can tell by the way he slowly shifts in his seat and continues his "hmmf" sound that he is wondering why my son is the exception. I want to slug him. I want to yell and scream "Who are you to judge? You have no idea who my son is! You have no idea what struggles we have in our life! You have no idea how proud I am of my son for how he handled that. It could have been so much worse. My son has Aspergers! He didn't ask for it, and neither did I!"

But I say nothing and despite my fuming inside, I turn my attention back to the next group of kids playing out the new scenario. All is fine, until again the facilitator mentions that they need to do another x-ray. Again Jacob heads out the door, and I follow. We wait until the x-ray portion is complete and head back in. Again Stink Eye is looking at me as if demanding an explanation for the disruption. There is no way I am sitting by him again, and find a chair in the back of the room. I hope he realized that slight was for him.

We get through the rest of the presentation with no problems. At the door saying good bye is Medic Bear. I am surprised when Jacob walks right up and gives the big blue bear with the plastered on smile a huge hug before exiting the room.

The hard part was over and we are heading to the park to eat our sack lunches. Jacob did great for the most part. We have come a long way.

As I sit next to my son on the cold tennis court eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was smooshed beyond recognition, I notice Stink Eye approaching the group. In his hands are a McDonald's bag and a large strawberry shake with whipped cream for his child. Didn't the handout specifically say a "sack lunch"? I can't help myself, and I give him the ole stink eye back. "Really?" I want to say. "What makes YOUR kid the exception?"

I say nothing. Instead am silently delighted when the whistle is blown and the full strawberry shake gets thrown in the trash.