And Through the Woods

“Settle down!” My mother-in-law’s voice cut through the bickering in the back seat of our minivan. “You boys have been fighting and squabbling for the last half-hour, and I’m sick of it. If your mom had acted like that, I’d have pulled off the road and paddled her. Now, be quiet.”

I ground my teeth but kept my mouth shut, as did Sandi.

Our Thanksgiving trip to see Sandi’s sister, Deborah, for the holiday was almost a spur-of-the-moment thing. Sure, they lived near Cincinnati, but we’d made long trips before. However, we hadn’t made a journey of 10 to 12 hours with our two sons, aged 5 and 6, who’d recently been diagnosed with autism. We discarded any misgivings and picked up Grandma at 2:00 a.m. Time to begin our adventure.

Almost 12 hours later, we found ourselves immersed in the love of family and stuffed with a wonderful dinner. So far, our plan had worked better than we’d hoped.

The next morning, we bade our loving farewells and headed home. The trip started off well enough, but near Illinois, the boys grew restless, and Grandma’s nerves snapped.

Her outburst caught me by surprise as we continued west. Sandi and I were still learning about their disability, but Grandma knew little about autism, and she, like many other people, blamed us for a perceived failure to discipline our children.

But Sandi placated her mother as she soothed our sons, a minor miracle, while I drove homeward and cooled down.

Like every Thanksgiving, I had ample reason that year to offer thanks. In retrospect, I’m especially thankful for not shouting at my mother-in-law, who would pass away four years later. And, I’m more than thankful for not paddling my children whose behavior is still governed by a condition they can’t control.

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.