Dear Discerning Diner,
You likely don’t recall my family or me, but your judgment was as clear as day. “We would never allow our children to zone out on screens during family meals,” you remarked to your partner, gesturing in our direction. In that moment, you decided that your future children would never exhibit the same behavior as mine. I can only imagine you continued your day, oblivious to the child you critiqued, lost in a digital world.
I understand your perspective. I’ve held similar views in the past, back when my children were merely hypothetical. It was before I had real kids, before I recognized that one of them navigated the world a bit differently than his peers. It was before I learned about the daunting diagnosis that begins with an A.
It’s easy to cast judgments when you haven’t experienced the reality of such situations. You see a child absorbed in a device; I see a child who struggled this morning just to get dressed. He finds clothing to be constricting, even when it’s a size too big. A simple cotton shirt can feel like a straitjacket to him. So while you perceive a child disengaged, I see a child who has managed to put on clothes, a small victory in his day.
You view him as ignoring his family while playing games. I see a little boy who, just hours earlier, was taken to a park for family photos against his will. He sought solace in climbing a tall branch, hoping the thrill of jumping could distract him from the discomfort of his shirt. Although he eventually smiled for the camera, it was a challenge. So while you see a child ignoring his parents, I see a child who bravely participated in a family activity for an entire hour.
You think he’s neglecting his meal while watching videos. I see a boy who patiently waited 30 minutes for a table, only to be met with a plate of unfamiliar food—linked sausage instead of the sausage patties he prefers. Sure, he could eat it, but in his mind, the newness is daunting. So while you see a child refusing to eat, I see a very hungry child who is waiting for the comfort of his familiar food at home.
You notice a child avoiding social interaction at the table. I see a child doing his best to maintain composure amidst overwhelming stimuli. One single issue today could have led to a meltdown, but he has held it together. Those colorful characters on the small screen provide just enough distraction for him to manage the discomfort of tight clothing, the anxiety brewing within, and the rumbling of his empty stomach.
So, dear Ms. Diner, the next time you observe a child lost in the glow of electronics during a family meal, remember that while your future children might seem ideal, the child at the next table may be doing an impressive job of managing his world. Zoning out can be his way of coping and keeping it together.
Sincerely,
That Kid’s Proud Mother