Story time y’all!
Every so often I have a Friday off from work and pick up D from school. This particular Friday he got his progress note or report card. I skimmed through it at a red light and was so proud of D’s progress I decided to take him to Chick-Fil-A for lunch. I can count on one hand the times we have actually gone inside to eat at a fast food place. This was number three or four, and was almost our last.
As soon as we walked in D saw the play area and tried to pull me in its direction. I explained that we needed to eat before we play. He seemed to understand and did okay while I ordered our food. A #3 eight-count with large fries, apple juice box and Polynesian sauce and a #1 for me, add cheese. We sat down, and had a pleasant meal, D would occasionally point to a vehicle going through the drive-thru and say, “truck”. He started getting antsy the closer he was to finishing his meal.
I asked him to let me pick up the table before we went to the play area. He entertained me for a minute. D insisted we go to the play area as soon as I was done. He opened the door, ran into the alternating platforms, quickly climbed into the most out-of-view corner and started to play his version of peek-a-boo. We had about 30 minutes before we had to head out to his pediatrician appointment. I thought 20 minutes of playing would be enough to get all his wiggles out but I’m sure he would’ve stayed in there the rest of the day. D had been in there for 25 minutes now and had no intention of climbing out. I had been calling for him to come out for 10 minutes at this point.
A young boy, I’m estimating around 7 or 8, climbed down and asked me who I was calling for. I told him there was a curly-haired boy in a blue and green striped shirt, and told him his name, as if he didn’t know it already. I don’t know who this young man is but he definitely has a career in ABA therapy. He was so patient with D, and when he managed to coax D out he let out an exhausted, “Finally!”
I held D’s hand and led him out of the play area, helped him put his coat and hat on and we quietly walked out of Chick-Fil-A to my car. No protesting, no screaming, no tears. By some miracle (and watching too many Fast and the Furious movies) we made it to his appointment on time. Thank goodness.