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It was not a good weekend for Cordy. After a week of switching to a morning class at preschool, we thought it would be an easy weekend. She had adjusted to the new school schedule without trouble, and seemed to be doing better overall.

But then Saturday she was disconnected from everything around her. We call these her bad days. Some days she's very interactive and playful, making eye contact and pulling us into her games. But on other days, she's out-of-sorts, ignoring those around her and making little sense as she talks to herself for hours, often reciting lines she's heard on TV. Its days like that when her autism is in control. This is the problem with autism - there's no gradual, even slope towards "all better". Instead, it's full of ups and downs, with one day good, the next day horrible, and some days in-between.

Sunday was her worst day, however. We were invited out for Dim Sum food at a local Chinese restaurant. My husband and I both worried about how Cordy would react there. She had been so distant the previous day, and she doesn't handle new experiences well, especially if they involve a lot of new sensory input. At the same time, we're very against the idea of living our lives in fear of a meltdown. I know it's for the best for Cordy to face new trials from time to time. It's tough on her, it's tough on us, but it does help her cope in the long run. So we decided we would attend, hoping that we would be pleasantly surprised by her behavior.

To be blunt: we were wrong. The restaurant was very full, with tables close together and no windows in the room. It had a claustrophobic feel for me. It was fairly loud, with TV screens on the walls showing Chinese TV, and lots of servers moving from table to table. My husband and I guided Cordy to the seat against the wall, with us on either side of her to keep her corralled in.

As the food began arriving, we realized that there was nothing that Cordy could recognize. In a familiar setting, we can sometimes convince her to try new foods. In a new setting, though, it's practically impossible. I pulled out the few snacks we had in the diaper bag, but those were soon exhausted, and Cordy got very upset that she was hungry but couldn't find any food. Meanwhile, my husband's father was snapping pictures at the table, and I think the flash from the camera was further provoking Cordy.

Eventually, she couldn't take it any longer. She slipped under the table, crawled to the other side, and threw herself into the walkway, screaming. Heads at other tables snapped around to see what the commotion was. My husband and I jumped up, asking family members to please not try to help (because when she's like this, all the people crowding around her only makes her more upset). I scooped her up and carried her out to the quiet of the lobby while she fought me and tried to break free.

She screamed and wailed and growled for over ten minutes. Her eyes had a vacant stare in them, pupils dilated and glassy, almost like a seizure. I recognized this as a major meltdown, and held her tight. When she's like this, she can seriously hurt herself by banging her head onto things or scratching or biting herself. She cried out, "I need to go home! I need a waffle! I need my jacket!" - she didn't really want any of those things, but when she's like this she commonly starts asking for anything that pops into her head. She sounded possessed, and I'm sure several people were staring as they walked by. But I held on and waited for this fit to pass, while my husband spoke with our family and explained why they shouldn't get too close at the moment.

Finally it was over. Her eyes looked less distant, the screaming stopped, and she quietly sniffled and wiped away her tears. "Go to the car?" she asked in a feeble voice. "Yes, we can go home now," I replied, and I carried her out of the restaurant. She quickly fell asleep in the car and slept for over two hours, worn out by the experience. I wanted to do the same, since I was just as worn out.

Do I regret going to the restaurant? No, not at all. We knew there was a chance something like this might happen. We can't hide in our house forever because our daughter has autism and gets uncomfortable anywhere new. It doesn't help her overcome her problems, and it doesn't help us, either. It was one more learning experience in what I'm sure will be a long list of more to come.