I’m not particularly proud of my behavior. Engaging in a food fight, especially in a public place, is hardly commendable. However, before you pass judgment, let me explain my situation.
My son is on the autism spectrum and faces various behavioral challenges tied to his condition. While he may not have the best role model (a mother who throws food, for instance), he does have unique neurological differences that turn a simple grocery trip into a daunting task.
Every Sunday, I take my two sons—my six-year-old who is on the spectrum and my three-year-old—to Whole Foods for breakfast. This ritual serves as an opportunity for both of them to learn how to behave in public. Plus, the scrambled eggs from the breakfast bar are the only ones my older son will eat.
Before we head inside, we go over the rules: Calm voices. Safe hands. Stick together. But once those automatic glass doors slide open, those reminders often seem to vanish into the air.
The atmosphere at Whole Foods seems to trigger my son. Whether it’s the bright lights, the soaring ceilings, or the vibrant array of products, kids on the spectrum often react strongly to sensory stimuli, and my son is no exception.
Almost immediately, he becomes energetic—his feet quicken, his arms flail, and he lets out loud, random sounds that reverberate throughout the store.
We attract attention, but it’s not the sympathetic glances I used to receive when he was a toddler having a meltdown. Now that he’s older, the expectations of his behavior have changed, even though his condition remains unchanged. The stares we receive communicate a singular message: Control your child.
What these onlookers fail to understand is the tremendous effort I invest in managing these situations. My life revolves around therapy appointments, behavioral plans, reward systems, and sticker charts—all aimed at teaching my son self-regulation.
Maybe it was the feeling of being unjustly scrutinized that fueled my reaction that day. Or maybe, after enduring the relentless challenges of raising a child on the spectrum, I was simply exhausted and ready to retaliate.
The incident unfolded at the oatmeal bar. I was supervising my son as he tried to ladle oatmeal into his bowl. His excitement was palpable as he bounced on his feet, eager to choose toppings. I noticed a man standing too close behind us, sighing impatiently. A quick glance revealed a tall figure with a moustache and a reddened face. He turned to my son and said, “Slow down.”
I have a strong aversion to men who use their size to intimidate others, and no one, regardless of stature, should ever speak to my child that way. “Don’t talk to my child like that,” I retorted.
“Stick it in your ear, Ma’am,” he shot back.
“Excuse me?” I asked, taken aback.
He leaned closer, speaking slowly, “Stick – It – In – Your – Ear–Ma’am.”
At that moment, I should have walked away. There were countless reasons to disengage: the man could have been dangerous, my children were watching, and I had to remind myself of our mantra: Calm voices! Safe hands! Stick together!
But then, with a swift motion, I knocked his unguarded bowl of oatmeal to the floor. “Sorry,” I said, feigning innocence, “I seem to have knocked over your oatmeal.”
“Security!” he bellowed. “I’ve been assaulted!”
He stormed away only to return a moment later, reaching into my cart and hurling a large box of scrambled eggs across the floor.
My boys, usually hard to silence, were taken aback by the spectacle. We stood there, mouths agape, and my gut twisted as I realized this situation was spiraling out of control. We needed to leave, and fast.
Before exiting, I stopped by the cashier, sharing a condensed version of the encounter (“that man just threw eggs everywhere”).
I’m not proud of how I handled myself. My actions contradicted the very lessons I strive to teach my children: we are accountable for our choices, even when others fail to act appropriately. Someone had to clean up the mess, and I was too embarrassed to stick around to help.
Through this experience, I learned the importance of self-care. I need to seek support—whether through therapy or perhaps even kickboxing—to manage my stress in healthier ways.
The takeaway for everyone else is this: grant my son the space to be himself. He can be loud and disruptive, and yes, he might occasionally knock over displays of loofahs and incense sticks, but he is genuinely trying his best. And so am I.
For more insights on parenting and family dynamics, check out this resource on family-building options from RESOLVE. You might also find helpful tips in our post about home insemination kits.
Summary:
In this candid reflection, the author shares her experience of a food fight at Whole Foods, highlighting the challenges of parenting a child on the autism spectrum. Amidst the chaos of the grocery store, she grapples with societal judgment and her own reactions, ultimately learning the importance of self-care and understanding in parenting.