Stores That Rhyme With Malnart

 

There is one place in the world that turns every single member of my family somewhat autistic.  I can’t mention the name of this store, but there’s a good chance it rhymes with the name Malnart.  My son hates this place!  I hate this place!  The whole family hates this place!  My son knows the difference between this store and any other immediately upon entering the doors without ever saying a word to him of where we are.  Why didn’t I tell him where we were going? Hah!  Because I know he won’t go!  Unfortunately, this is one of the only larger stores near my home so, suck it up and in we go.  Immediately the meltdowns begin.  My son cringes and covers his head in his travel fort ( a blanket he throws under his head and hides in).  My husband starts tuning things out completely and loses the ability to speak in full sentences other than giving the orders of his strategic plan to hurry get what’s needed and get the heck out.  My other sons stick close to each other trying desperately to make the best of the situation but signs of breaking out into a stress relieving wrestling match start to show as they laugh and push each other in the arm and start repeating the phrase, “mom, dad, got everything you need yet?”  My daughter and I become the most autistic here.  This is when we both start noticing every irritating factor about every other human being in the store.  The fluorescent lights start to give everyone in the whole family a headache, my son starts rocking a little more furiously in his chair, my other sons give up on goofing off and now follow sullenly behind just hoping the madness will soon end, and my husband and I exchange looks and comments of “do we really need to be in here? What was it we came in here for?  I think whatever we have now is good enough.”  My family and I blaze a trail to one of the two check out lines that are open in the long line of what must be 30 of them that exist.  Wait in line behind 23 old ladies with coupons and one person furnishing their entire house from the home and garden department.  Now the big meltdown begins because my son realizes he is in that place he hates, within the place he hates;  the checkout line.  People are too close to him, he can hear all of them talking, some of them are making rude sounds, things smell funny, that machine keeps beeping and he’s stuck in a narrow space with no where to go and the head banging begins.  So after I get my husband to stop banging his head on the conveyer belt, I address my sons head banging and force my way through the crowd in line as the other kids yell “I’ll help mom” and we make a break for the door leaving my poor head banging husband standing all alone in that terrible line waiting to buy stuff that he can’t even remember why we needed in the first place.

"Autism and Assholes"