people sketch: family at lunch

Disney World.

Last Wednesday.

I'm in a busy restaurant. It's lunch time. Sarah is sitting next to me.

And there's a family at the table. A mom, a dad; their two girls.

The youngest girl looks restless. She's fidgeting, slightly anguished. The dad hands her his Iphone. She takes it, starts tapping away, absorbed in some sort of game.

I say to the dad, "I'm assuming that thing is a lifesaver."

"Definitely," he replies. "If you can get her to focus on it pre-meltdown...or even mid-meltdown...it can make a big difference. She can get into it, shut out some of the sounds that are going on around her."

About the Iphone, I say, "A few years ago, nothing like that was available. It's amazing how quickly technology has developed, to where you can go into a public place and have some way of managing...you know, that level of anxiety."

The dad says, "I think about that all the time. When you and I were kids, there were no tools available...no gadgets that could help a person manage their senses, their reactions. And more than that, there was no real effort to even acknowledge the issue. I'm always struck by how ignored autism was until very recently. I look at the level of care she needs every second of the day and I think, 'How was it even possible to ignore this?' Blows me away."

All of us look at menus, except for the youngest girl. She just taps the screen of the cell phone. The dad says, "She has a script for lunch. She'll say, 'Do I smell cheese pizza?' And then she'll order it."

The waitress walks over, says hello. The youngest girl pauses...breathes in...and yells, "Do I smell cheese pizza?!" The waitress laughs and says, "Yes, we do have that." The little one orders cheese pizza.

There's a carafe of coffee on the table. I drink one cup, pour another...drink it. The mom watches, resentful. She says, "I'm only supposed to drink decaf." When I pour a third cup, she says, "Grrr. I can't take it anymore." She pours herself a cup. When the waitress walks by, the mom says, "Pardon? Could we get a second carafe of coffee? That would be terrific."

She mentions to the waitress that she's supposed to drink decaf, but is going for the good stuff. The waitress says, "You know, the other day, a customer actually tried to order a decaf espresso."

We collectively shudder.

We wait for the food, small-talk. At another table, a baby cries. The youngest daughter doesn't react, she just plays with the cell phone. The mom says, "Wow. I can't believe she's not reacting. Baby sounds can push her over the edge."

To the dad she says, "On the bus this morning, there was a toddler crying...and she freaked. I mean, it was a scene. The kid was screaming; she was screaming."

The dad says, "Sounds bad."

The mom says, "Beirut."

I drink more coffee. The oldest daughter is 9. I say to her, "I'm trying to educate myself about Iphones...I know nothing about them. And I've been trying to put together a list of which apps I should get...but I'm clueless. I was wondering if you had app advice."

She says, "I can show you some pretty cool apps." She takes out a gadget, says, "It's not an Iphone, though. It's an Ipod Touch."

She walks over and talks me through some of the apps. She says, "This one is called Talking Tom. It's a cat...you can, like, make it talk. Or you can beat it up if you want." She demonstrates...taping the screen, beating the cat. I say, "That's sweet."

She says, "There's another app just like it, but with a snowball."

She pulls it up. I see a snowball with a cute, smiling face on it. She taps a button which allows her to apply a blowtorch to the snowball. It screams and melts.

"So," I say. "Abusing things. Seems to be a whole genre."

She says, "Pretty much." She shows me a few games...gives me some app advice...goes back to her seat.

The food arrives. The youngest girl asks, "Monkeys don't really like bananas, do they?" The dad replies, "Sure they do, honey." She thinks about it and asks, "Monkeys don't really like bananas, do they?" And he replies, "Sure they do; sure they do."

We eat; small-talk. I drink more coffee and announce, "I've had too much coffee."

Sarah says, "By the way, everyone should know...M had a birthday yesterday." I look at her and growl. She says, "Sorry, I had to out you."

The little one, she's mostly wrapped up in the Iphone, but she reacts to the word birthday. She throws her hands into the air and says, "Happy Birthday!" Then, quietly, she sings a little of the song.

"Happy birthday to you....chop chop chop. Happy birthday to you...chop chop chop..."

She trails off, stops singing. The mom says to her, "Don't worry, honey...we'll all sing once he gets some dessert with a candle."

She tells the waitress, "We're ready for dessert. His needs to have a candle in it."

The waitress asks, "Oh, is it a birthday?" And I interrupt: "You can bring a candle, but nothing else. It's not technically my birthday anyway. I don't want...you know, a whole thing to happen."

The waitress nods, walks off. I say to the table, "If Mickey Mouse comes out waving a bunch of sparklers around, it could get ugly. I'm not above punching a universally beloved cartoon character."

The dad says, "That would make for an awesome blog post, though."

"It's true," I say. "'M Goes to Disney World- a dark, disturbing tale.' I could definitely imagine that one."

The desserts come out. I have this little pie thing. There's a candle in it. The waitress lights the candle. The older daughter says, "Don't forget to make a wish." The younger one says, "Happy birthday!" I blow out the candle, everyone sings; the little one says, "chop chop chop" between each verse.

We drink more coffee and work on the desserts. The mom, she has a little chocolate Mickey Mouse in front of her. It's basically an edible figurine. She picks it up and eats one leg...then another. She bites off his arms, then his ears. She holds him up and inspects him. I say, "He's not looking too good there. Poor Mickey." She bites his head off and says, "Mmm...delicious."

The dad watches this...indicates the older daughter and says, "When she was much smaller, we had a birthday party for her. And the cake was Elmo. And I don't mean it was a flat cake with Elmo depicted on it...I mean the cake was shaped to look like Elmo. So, we had a party...kids everywhere...the cake comes out. And because of the way it's shaped, I can't really find an ideal place to start cutting. So I just make a judgement call...and lop off Elmo's head. I just thought it made the most sense to start there, so I literally cut off Elmo's head and serve it up on a platter. And of course the kids weren't thrilled about it. They freaked a little and I realized that maybe Elmo's head wasn't the best place to start."

The little one has a scoop of strawberry ice cream in front of her. She peers all around it and says, "I see four strawberries."

The dad says, "That's okay, honey. I can pick them out." He takes a spoon, removes the fruit.

She begins to eat, but accidentally knocks the ice cream onto the floor. Dad says, "That's okay, honey."

Waitress brings a new ice cream. Little one peers all around it and says, "I see three strawberries." Dad picks them out and holds the bowl in place while she eats the ice cream.

Lunch ends. We get up, head for the door. We hug, say goodbyes. The youngest one walks up, throws her hands into the air and says, "Happy Birthday!"

I say, "Thank you."

The family heads off to pursue their last day at Disney. Sarah and I leave.