As a special treat I decided to take my kids to Dunkin Donuts after school.The truth is, after having a horrible day, I needed coffee – strong coffee – and something gooey and caloric to dunk in it. Everyone else must have been having the same kind of day, because there was a huge line. I know waiting is hard for any child, but to a kid with Asperger’s Syndrome … well, let’s just say having a tooth extracted is easier.
I tried to distract my youngsters by having them play a game. “Let’s see if there is a doughnut’s name for every letter of the alphabet … ”
Apple Crumb, Bavarian Crème, Chocolate Frosted, Dulce de Leche …
And then our game stopped. Which is a good thing, because there is no Dunkin Donut starting with the letter E. The young girl in front of us had dropped her change. One dime and a shiny penny went rolling onto the ground and just so happened to land in front of my son Jay, my 10-year-old “Aspie.” He bent down to pick them up. Here was the moment of truth. Would he put them in his pocket or would he give them back?
Assuming that my son was just bending down to be helpful, the elderly woman behind us started commenting on what a nice young man he was.
I, on the other hand, knew it could go either way.
He put them in his pocket.
The ancient elder to my rear clutched her chest in horror.
“That is not your money, Jay. Please give it back to the NICE lady who dropped it,” I said, emphasizing NICE while flashing a fake smile at the tsk-tsking oldster who was practically having a coronary behind me. Jay then handed our NICE friend the dime but proceeded to put the penny in his other pocket. He started singing, “Find a penny pick it up, and all day you’ll have good luck.”
Our young friend, who was now getting embarrassed by all the attention, told Jay he could keep it. But I would not allow it. Every situation like this is a chance to teach my child how he’s supposed to act in the so-called typical world. Social situations such as this cause the most problems for Aspies.
“Jay, I know when you’re outside and you find a penny on the ground, you pick it up. That’s OK, because you don’t know whom it belongs to. But you know who this penny belongs to. In a way, by you keeping that penny, you are stealing. Stealing is bad, right?” I asked.
“Yes, Mom, stealing is bad,” he said, defeated.
The poor sweet girl looked at me, then at Jay, and not wanting to disagree, reluctantly put her hand out and accepted the return of her penny.
By now we were the talk of Dunkin Donuts. I could hear people chattering all around me. Some were praising my mothering skills; others thought I’d completely overreacted. I wasn’t planning on eating our doughnuts there, but after hearing the way everyone talked, I decided to do just that. I had nothing to be embarrassed about, so I threw my shoulders back, held my head high and found a nice table in the middle of the place and sat down.
But wait, my story isn’t over yet.
Bellies full, we walked to the car. Gracie was about to climb in when she noticed a penny on the ground. She bent down, picked it up and looked around to see if anyone had dropped it. Not a soul in sight.
“Mom, did you drop this penny?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then, find a penny pick it up.” She turned around, looked her brother straight in the face and said, “Karma, baby, karma!”
