This is the second of an ongoing series of posts. The first part can be found here.
Mimi could only rely on herself in raising her two boys in the early 1970’s.
Her young son George would not receive the autism diagnosis for many years.
George could read and tell her how to get someplace, but, she relayed, “I could not potty-train him or keep him from hitting himself.” George would sit on the toilet and giggle, while Mimi tried to teach him what to do. After a period of time with no performance, the young mother would end up giggling too. She would finally give up and put him in disposable diapers, which were fairly new on the market at the time. It was just easier.
George also was a “runner.” He snuck out of the house and visited neighbors’ homes where they let him explore. Fortunately, everyone in…
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I have always hated that term…refrigerator parents. It took too long for that to go away. Brandon was a runner when he was little, too. It is terrifying to turn your back for 30 seconds and then realize they are gone.