People can say some incredibly stupid and insensitive things when confronted with autism. At first these comments offended me, but over time I’ve begun to see the humor in them. So I started a collection.

The first ten are listed below, along with the sarcastic responses that I do my best to keep under wraps.

Well, at least until now….

1. Oh, I’m so sorry. How awful for you.
   How awful for me? Are you kidding?
   
2. Just be thankful that she’s so pretty. Maybe no one will notice the other stuff.
   A cute face will help with many things, but I don’t think it will make up for a lack of verbal communication or social skills. And no one can see her face when she’s lying facedown in the parking lot having a tantrum.
   
3. She’ll grow out of that, right? Then she’ll be fine?
   I think she’s fine now. I am not so sure, however, about you.
   
4. She doesn’t look like she has autism. Are you sure the doctors are right?
   Shockingly, most pediatricians (as in over 90 %) feel they don’t know enough about autism to even make a referral, let alone an actual diagnosis. At this point, I know far more about autism than most doctors. And yes, I’m sure the specialist was right. You’d be too, if you spent any time alone with my child. It’s how they act, not how they look.
   
5. If you wouldn’t baby her, she’d be normal.
   I had to stop “babying” my child a month after she turned two. From that point on, I’ve had to practice a form of tough love that would break your heart—assuming you had one.
   
6. I just don’t know how you do it.
   I do it the same as you would if it was your child. You figure it out.
   
7. Have you heard of Temple Grandin? She has autism and is brilliant … a professor and everything. You should watch her movie.
   Not only have I watched the movie, I’ve met Temple Grandin in person at a book signing. What does any of that have to do with my brilliant child?
   
8. The autism isn’t the problem. It’s your poor parenting skills.
   Great! So if I take a couple parenting classes, will that make the autism go away?
   
9. Sometimes I wish MY kids couldn’t talk.
   Really? You’d love for them to be sick and incapable of telling you where it hurts? Or what they want? Or what happened at school? Yes, I’m sure you’d love that. And not talking doesn’t mean they don’t make noise. A steady, high-pitched screech that lasts for 30 minutes is sooo much better than a kid who talks all the time, right?
   
10. Have you tried a timeout?
    Umm, yeah. Maybe you should try one.

Until next time,
Cynthia Patton