Hangin’ at the Hibachi

My son loves the hibachi. You know, where you and others sit around a grill, watch a Japanese chef cook and entertain, and then eat yummy food.  He was thrilled when we went to a Japanese steak house in Annapolis.

Since we usually go to the hibachi restaurants for lunch, not dinner, we were not used to waiting more than about 5 minutes for our chef to arrive. Philip was a real trooper, though. He waited patiently, gave me his soup, ate my salad… it was all good.

I admit that I was a little nervous when some strangers were seated at our hibachi, and Philip said something to me about it. But I explained to him that sometimes people we don’t know sit with us at hibachis, and he accepted this just fine.  Hooray!

When our chef finally arrived and began to twirl his cooking utensils like batons, my boy decided to be a little announcer.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” he cried. “Give it up for… um… the guy who… plays with these things! Let the show begin!”
To my relief, the strangers at our hibachi laughed with me. We had a great time.

I’m not sure why I feel the need to “explain” my son to others, but when Philip got up to get an after dinner mint, I explained that he had autism. No worries, they said. Their friend had a son with autism, too, and they were hoping that he would speak soon. They said they were impressed with Philip’s speech.
Understanding, acceptance and fun while hanging at the hibachi. That gives me hope!