This man right here is my hero. I don’t know his name. Or anything about him, actually. Let me explain. After a hot and tiring hour (not day — hour.
That equals an eternity in Fletcher time) at a “Day Out with Thomas,” Fletcher, my autistic nonverbal 9-year-old, was hungry.
So we spent an exorbitant amount of money on chicken tenders and fries and headed to the food tent to eat. Fletcher ran ahead, passing all of the open seating to plop down nearly on top of a nice man who was sitting alone.Read more on themighty.com