"No candy."
Her nostrils flare with every breath, fists clenched so tightly she’ll have fingernail marks on her palms. The cause of this impending meltdown? Red licorice twists, and my refusal to count them as a dinner component.
"RedVines and tortellini"—her extemporaneous addition to our grocery list—amuses me, but the rules have to be enforced regardless. It won’t be easy. Few creatures on earth can match the tenaciousness of a child with autism.
"No candy," I repeat.
She huffs and puffs. I wonder if she’s going to threaten to blow the house down.
"You know the deal. Red Vines are a treat, not part of a meal."
Still glowering at me, she stomps over to the white board and scrawls "brokkilly" over "RedVines."
"Better, Daddy?"
"Better, kiddo."
No screaming, no tears, no China Syndrome—at least not this time.
Hey, we’re making progress.
* * *
© 2014 by M.P. Witwer • All rights reserved
