This took place a few years ago, and for some reason which I cannot remember, there was a shortage of some chicken products in my area, and unfortunately, that included frozen chicken nuggets.

I am struggling to find any crumbed frozen nuggets around. I have been going from supermarket to supermarket to find them, and all my relatives are also looking.

I am sharing my frustrations with a coworker over lunch at work when some other staff hear our conversation. Another coworker who was listening to the conversation, as we do have a small lunch room, interjects.

Coworker: “Or you could just not worry about it and make your own.”

Me: “I need them for my son, though. It’s the only way we can get him to eat meat. He doesn’t like it when I make them from scratch.”

Coworker: “Or you could just make him eat it.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s not going to work. It’s not worth the meltdown when I know he is 100% not going to eat it.”

Coworker: ‘“Sounds like you’re a soft parent. I just put food in front of my kids, and they have to eat it or they don’t eat.”

Me: “Good for you. It must be nice having kids who don’t have autism and don’t have any food aversions and will put up with that.”

Coworker: “Come on. Your son will eat it if he has no choice.”

Me: “He actually won’t. We tried the tough thing where he had to eat or didn’t eat at all. He starved himself instead. He literally will not eat it and will go to bed crying because he’s hungry but can’t bring himself to even touch those foods. And it’s not something he’s been taught, either; when he was a baby and we did baby-led weaning, I put ham and avocado on his high chair, and he screamed until he nearly passed out.”

Coworker: “Well, maybe if you do it consistently, it will work. You’re pandering to him!”

Me: “Wow. So I should just let my three-year-old starve and cry and traumatise him because a chick at work who is completely unqualified on his condition says I should? No, I’m going to listen to the professionals that I’ve been taking him to, who actually understand him and want to help him.”

Coworker: “But… I am trying to help. I have three kids, and they are older; I’ve been through the picky stage.”

Me: “No, you don’t want to help. You want to sit on your high horse and judge me, my parenting, and my son. And this isn’t a picky stage; this is a genuine condition that he will live with forever, and we are seeing professionals who are helping him learn to cope. Plus, it’s not even like he’s only eating junk food; he won’t even eat chocolate or lollies. He will only drink water, no juice or soft drinks. You have no clue, and you’re taking the opportunity to be judgy.”

My coworker got really quiet and left before her lunch break was finished.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first or the last time I’ve had a conversation like this. Thankfully, my son’s therapy has helped, and although he still avoids most foods, we have been able to get him to try some new foods. Now, he will eat beef sausages!

Schools are constantly trying to accommodate the needs of students, but they often forget that staff have diverse needs, too. This happened to my dad when he was attending professional development on accommodating disabilities.

Presenter: “It’s important to remember that your students may not know that they have additional needs, or they may not be able to express what they need. It is your job as teachers to anticipate their needs and accommodate for learning styles, abilities, interests, and needs.”

Later on, the presenter put four large coloured squares on the floor next to each other: yellow, blue, green, and red. They were reading out a scenario, and the teachers had to stand on the square with the accommodation they thought would best suit the child. As they read out the scenario, most teachers moved to a square, except three male teachers, including my dad.

Presenter: “Do you need me to reread the question? Or are you still thinking?”

Dad: “No, we know our answers. But we’re colourblind, and you’ve put the green and the red squares next to each other. None of us know which one is which.”

The presenter was very embarrassed and quickly shuffled the squares around, quickly scrawling labels on sheets of paper to help the colourblind staff. However, my dad appreciated the irony of someone lecturing about anticipating disabilities while failing to do the same in the presentation.

This was many years ago, in the early days when MP3 players were available and still a new and exciting thing. My older sister had a part-time job while in high school and had saved up money to buy one, and as her birthday was approaching, my parents agreed to help make up the difference as her birthday present.

My whole family tagged along to buy it. It was a very exciting thing, and as jealous as I was of my sister for getting an MP3 player, she said I could have her old Walkman, and I was very grateful.

We went to an electronics store, and we were greeted by an older lady who worked there.

Now, I have nothing against older people working with electronics, but I could see from my parents’ faces that they didn’t want to be served by her when she started talking about how technology is moving too fast… And she worked in an electronics store and was meant to sell these things.

My sister started asking about the types of players available and pointed out some she had seen in the catalogue which were in her price range.

Sister: “I saw this one, which is in our price range and can hold 150 songs!”

The sales lady rolled her eyes and looked fed up.

Sales Lady: “Oh, that’s no good! You don’t need 150 songs! All you actually need is five or six songs, and you can just swap them around every now and then!”

I think she probably had a heart attack when Spotify was released.

I am visiting a touristy place in the rainforest of northeast Australia. Popular access is via a series of gondolas or a scenic train. There’s lots of shopping from local artisans, you can hold a koala, etc. I’m on my way to the train station to return to Cairns when a barefoot young man walks up to me.

Barefoot Guy: “Hey, do you know where I can find nature?”

Me: “Um, anywhere?”

I kept going, and he presumably found some nature. Did I mention that we were in the middle of the rainforest?

It’s a nice, sunny weekend so some of my husband’s extended family, including his elderly grandparents, decides to have a day out at a park by a river. There are around twelve of us with kids attending.

The park has a lovely playground but only a few picnic tables available. My husband, children, and I arrive first and plan it early enough to snap up one of the four picnic tables, which is closest to the disabled parking, and all the other tables are occupied quickly. While we’re waiting for the rest of the family, my husband walks with my youngest to buy some snacks while my six-year-old son and I sit at the table and play some games together while we wait for everyone to arrive.

At about 10:45 am, another family arrives, and one of the ladies in that group walks up to the table next to us, which is full of people who have set up with blankets and look quite comfortable. She asks them something I don’t quite hear. She then walks back to her family, whispers something, and then sits down at my table with my son and me while the rest of her family starts to move forward toward us.

Me: “Hi, excuse me. We’re waiting on my extended family to arrive and there are a few of us. You’re welcome to sit for a few minutes, but they should be here soon and we’ll need the space.”

Lady: “Oh, I spoke to that table, and they said that they weren’t going to be staying long and that I could have the tables.”

Me: “They might be leaving soon, but we’re not. We’ll be here the whole day.”

Lady: “I thought you were together.”

Me: “I don’t know those people; I haven’t even spoken a word to them.”

Lady: “But I need both tables. We’re having a family day out. They said we could have the table.”

Me: “We’re having a family day out, too. We’ll only use the one table but we’ll be using this one. I don’t know those people.”

Lady: “But they said I could have the tables.”

Me: “They might have been speaking for their own table, but they have no say over this one that my son and I are reserving for my family.”

I had to say the last part very pointedly and make sure my voice was assertive. I knew at this point that she was trying to bully me from the table because it was just me with my young son; she thought, with her family moving toward the table, I would get uncomfortable and just move. 

The lady sat and glared at me for a few moments. Then, she stopped her family and said, “She won’t move.” They walked off and found a spot in the grass to sit for their picnic, watching us for a while. I made a pointed stare at them when my father-in-law arrived, bringing my husband’s elderly grandfather who is blind, and his wife who has back issues and can’t walk far.

Despite the lady claiming they’d said they wouldn’t be there long, the family at the table next to us sat at the table for several hours and only left about half an hour before we did.