After Anthony reaches a certain age, it appears we may be able to have the state pay for him to be in a home for those like him.  This would certainly free my wife and me to be able to do things we could not otherwise, and yet I find myself at times thinking that I would still want to try to take care of him as long as I am physically able; after all, he is my son and I do love him.  I don't like the prospect of him potentially being unhappy with his living arrangements, whether or not we can see that is the case.

Unfortunately, however, reality sometimes smacks me hard in the face (I know that isn't grammatically correct).  Today, that was almost a literal statement.  For some reason, Anthony wanted to engage me physically.  I refused to do it--that's how it usually works, for those of you who don't read this blog much.  Anthony responded by writhing on the floor; blowing out the contents of his nose at me; slamming his head into the door, then the cabinets; then trying to come after me again with hands, feet, and head; and on and on.  I was certain he was going to put his head through the door or cabinets, so I told him to target the edge of the sink counter instead, hoping that would get it out of his system and cause him some discomfort at the same time.  However, he stood up, and managed to hit the top of the counter with such force that he broke it completely through.  Then he went after the mirror.  Oh boy.  I managed to stop him before he broke that as well, and thankfully he seemed on the downside of his rage, so I had him go into his room where he continued ranting for a few minutes but calmed down without further incident.

I guess, if there is a positive to this, it will be that I don't feel much guilt over eventually letting go of him.  I know it is probably what we should do anyway, for a number of reasons.  But I think I will probably still see it as sad, if only for the same reasons that we feel sad about letting our other children go as well.

We used to live in Orange County, California, and went to Disneyland on several occasions while we lived there. Visits to Disneyland--and probably some other amusement parks as well--are the only times when having Anthony actually benefits us because we can ask for a disability pass and skirt most of the long lines. We did once have the attendant at the customer service desk ask specifically why our autistic son needed the pass, to which I replied that if he had to wait in line a long time, he would eventually get upset and start hitting and biting people. Any skepticism she might have had seemed to disappear quickly on hearing that.

We returned to California over the Christmas break for the first time in a few years, and of course Disneyland was on the itinerary. Sadly, we found that the disability pass for the most part did not afford us entry at a disability entrance (usually the exit) as it had in the past--perhaps they have been eliminated--but was usually treated the same as the "fast pass" that people can get to go at a later time but which of itself is not particularly fast on crowded days. But of course the waiting times of 20 minutes or so are still much better than an hour or more.

The ride Anthony--and the rest of us--enjoyed most, and about which we wish we had known beforehand, was the Radiator Springs Racers in California Adventure. The ride starts out as nothing special, cruising at slow speeds through the Radiator Springs landscape from the movie "Cars". I was beginning to wonder why the lines were so long for this ride when, after a few minutes, our "car" stopped by another and the "race" started. I don't know what kind of speeds this ride attained, but how I wish we could go on it again. We rode too late in the day and still wanted to do other things, then found out later that California Adventure closed an hour earlier than Disneyland, much to our chagrin. But in hindsight, both my wife and I think we should have paid the $20 for the picture they take of the riders toward the end of the ride. It showed Anthony with a big smile on his face to match those of the rest of us, and there isn't much that really elicits that kind of a response from him.