Wrong

"Typical" kids often have a hard time with funerals.  There are too many people who expect everyone to be quiet, and it's not the type of place where one would really run and play.  Add autism into the mix, and you could have a disaster on your hands.

Please note that I said "could," rather than "will."  I had been sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that yesterday was going to be a Code Red kind of day. 

Two and a half hours in the car to the funeral home, and The Princess was in a surprisingly good mood when we got there.  I never once even considered taking her into the room or making her sit through the memorial service, which - not surprisingly - turned out to be a good decisioin.  She strung beads in the large living-room-like lobby area, ran up and down the hall, dragged us outside for a walk to the small patch of grass, and did it all again and again and again.  We finally settled in the kitchen area, where The Princess assisted The Hubbs with drinking his coffee, dunking a straw in and slurping one drip at a time into her silly little face.  The kid has weird taste, I tell ya!

After the service let out, we made our way through the crush of people back to the car.  Nana directed us to the restaurant where the family would be meeting, and The Princess giggled in the back seat.  When we arrived at the restaurant, we found that it was a really nice place and that Uncle C had reserved a large party room for the family.  I've never seen so many people at a post-memorial-service lunch before, and it was pretty loud in there.  Kiddo went into minor overload a couple of times, but no full-fledged meltdowns.  She even used the potty a few times, making her momma mighty proud.  She ate mostaccioli, salad, fruit, and soup...and washed it all down with chocolate milk.  I didn't have to break into our emergency stash once - I can't remember the last time that happened.

Traffic on the way home was unbearable.  I think it was over three and a half hours before we finally made it home, and it could have been closer to four.  Just for the record, I am NOT a fan of rush hour around Chicago.  If I never had to deal with it again, it would be too soon.  The Princess, however, was for the most part unaffected.  She grumped a few times, but nothing ear-splitting.  About a half-hour from home, she nodded off in her car seat with Dirt Pink.  After a short power nap, she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by the time our tires came to rest in the garage.

The rest of the evening was spent happily running around the house, blowing off steam.  I don't recall one full-fledged meltdown, which is absolutely mind-boggling when I consider the fact that we were gone from home - with a good deal of time spent in a very large group of people - for nearly ten hours.

I had been so sure the day was going to be a disaster.  I love it when I'm wrong.