Walking the Talk

So today we did the walk. For the grownups, it was powerful catharsis. For the kids, I would guess "slow torture" might sum it up, from the way they carried on.

Now, I know I probably have a rep as a whiner by now. But I'm going to risk making it worse. I swear this is true: tens of thousands of people of all ages, backgrounds, and developmental differences are walking, riding, being carried, and only two people -- two, out of tens of thousands -- seemed unable to handle it, for whatever reason. I looked in ever stroller, bouncer, tent, nook and cranny I could find to see if I could spy a single other meltdown in progress over the course of about two hours. Only my children needed to cry and scream and flail about on the lovely and meaningful walk on a beautiful day to fight against autism.

But my inlaws joined "The Rooster Team" for the walk, making it the four of us against the two of them, and so we did manage to make it to the finish line. Not a minute too soon, but we made it.

Yes, I know: a parable for sure. We need all the extra hands we can get on Team Rooster to make it to water finish lines exist in the long walk against autism.