LA: Welcome back to Special Needs Daily, because laughter is a therapy we can afford. So I had planned to bring you another guest this week, but sometimes life hands you enough material that you don't need a guest. And apparently life looked at me this week and said, LA, I got you. It started out with high school registration. Yes, high school. My boys are officially entering high school, which is an emotional crisis. I'm going to save for another episode. Because I am still trying to understand how two little boys who were just learning to walk five minutes ago are suddenly high school freshmen. But off we went to register. It's Southern California, it's August, it's approximately the temperature of the surface of the sun. And when we arrived, there was a long line of students waiting outside in 95 degree heat, standing directly in the sun. Now my boys are only comfortable if our home is an icebox, Waiting patiently in a long line, surrounded by people in 95 degree heat with music blasting from a speaker, isn't exactly in their wheelhouse. Frankly, it's not in my wheelhouse either. So I asked a very sweet student volunteer, are there any accommodations for special needs students? I'm not sure. I don't think so. But then God blessed this kid. He looked at us and said, follow me. and he walked us right to the front of the line. That is inclusion. He didn't need a meeting. He didn't need a policy. He didn't need a committee. He looked at the situation, recognized that these kids needed something different and helped. So now we're in the front of the line where several staff members are sitting behind a table. And I ask again. Are there any accommodations for special needs students? and one woman who apparently had been assigned the role of director of warmth and hospitality that morning looked at me with resting bitch face and said, No, there are not. Okay, then. Well, I guess I won't be registering my boys today. Because here's the thing: I wasn't asking for a red carpet. I wasn't asking them to shut down registration. I wasn't asking someone to carry me around while feeding me grapes. although that would have been a nice touch. I was asking how two disabled students who cannot tolerate that environment were supposed to navigate the same registration process as everybody else. That's an accommodation. And then from somewhere underneath the table, this adorable woman appeared. I'm not kidding. She ducked under the table, popped up, and said, Can I help you through the process? And I practically screamed, police. What a gift. She introduced herself as the office manager and starts walking us through everything and eventually brings me over to another woman and says, This is our principal. well, hello, principal. Have I got some feedback for you? I told her how disheartening it was that at a school serving special needs students didn't appear to have any accommodation built into the registration process for them. She was very sweet, she apologized, and couldn't get away from me fast enough. That's fair. because once I get started advocating for my boys, you're probably going to miss lunch. But we made it through registration. The boys were registered. I thanked the wonderful office manager for her time and help, and we got the hell out of there. And I thought, okay, that's enough adventure for one week. Life said, LA, you're adorable. Because the very next day we packed up the car and headed to Sacramento. Now it's a schlep and normally takes about seven hours. But somewhere on the five, right before the grapevine, traffic stopped. Not slowed, stopped. Google told me that an Amazon truck ahead of us was completely engulfed in flames. And there was nowhere to go. No exit, no detour, no turning around, just hundreds of us sitting on the five for more than three hours. People started getting out of their cars, walking around, stretching, chatting, basically turning Interstate 5 into the world's worst block party. Meanwhile, I'm sitting there with two nonverbal autistic teenage boys thinking there is absolutely no No way I'm letting these two out of this car on the five freeway. So we stayed put. And eventually the boys decided they'd had enough. Off came the shirts, then the shorts. And before long, my two children were sitting in the back of the minivan in their underwear. And you know what? I looked back at them and thought, Boys, I respect the decision. Because it was hot. We weren't moving. We had been sitting there forever. And frankly, the only difference between them and me was that I have social conditioning because I would have loved to take my clothes off. At this point, the boys had gone through all their snacks, their iPads were almost drained, And my calming explanations to them were clearly not well received. They started arguing with each other in a way that only they know means they're not happy with each other. At one point, I could feel my eyes well up. I couldn't find the funny. Then lo and behold, my son successfully bypassed my parental control yet again and landed on Family Guy and started repeating: what the hell, Lois? And there it was, the much needed funny to get me through this, because he was absolutely expressing what he felt. Like what the hell? Once I started laughing, the boys started laughing. I'm sure all the cars around us thought we were losing our minds. Maybe we were. Eventually traffic started moving again. And by the time we finally arrived in Sacramento, the three of us had been in that car for ten and a half hours. Ten and a half hours. And somehow we made it. Not gracefully, not fully clothed. But we made it. And maybe that's the theme of this week's special needs daily. We know this world isn't built with our kids in mind. Sometimes you have to ask for the accommodation that should have already been there. Sometimes you have to be that mom. Sometimes a stranger sees what you need and simply says, follow me. And sometimes you're trapped on the five freeway for over three hours while your children are slowly turning your car into a nudist colony. This life can be frustrating, it can be exhausting, it can be absurd. And sometimes, right in the middle of all of it, you realize this is gonna make for one hell of a story. And that is why we laugh. Not because the hard parts aren't hard. But because sometimes laughter gives us just enough room to keep going. And if you have had your own you have got to be kidding me moment this week, please email me at la at specialneedsdaily.com. I definitely want to hear it. because if we're going to live through all this stuff, we might as well talk about it on a podcast to make others laugh. Until next time, give yourself some grace, find something to laugh about. And remember, my life is hard, but it certainly isn't bad. And before I go, a little prayer for our community. God, give us an abundance of strength, stamina, patience, and compassion for whatever today brings. And in the middle of the hard moments, please give us enough space to find a little laughter. Amen. I'm happy to be the one to tell you you're doing way better than you think.