The other day, I braved Costco for the first time in months with my toddler. We needed super-sized, bargain-priced quantities of milk, eggs, and other essentials, and I just couldn’t avoid the trip any longer. Unfortunately, we got in trouble because my son didn’t have his mask on, and an employee saw.
I knew about Costco’s mask policy, so I brought my son’s adorable Mickey Mouse mask and my cute floral one. And let me be clear: I agree with the policy. I think people should wear masks to protect other people and themselves.
My son, who has autism, is flourishing in speech therapy, but he’s not yet fully verbal like neurotypical 3-year-olds. So I did my best to explain that he had to keep his mask on, and he did put it on — at first.
We walked into the store, masks secured, and got shopping.
But after about five minutes, my son took his mask off. Because Costco is so enormous, no one really noticed at first. I kept trying to put the mask back on, but my kid was done. So I shrugged it off and tried to at least keep him close to the cart, watching through the accumulating fog on my glasses.
It was interesting, observing fellow shoppers. Every adult I saw had a mask on, except one woman whose bandanna was shoved down to her throat, her mouth and nose defiantly exposed to the Costco universe. It made me want to roll my eyes, honestly.
Kids under 2 didn’t have a mask on, of course, and an older girl with Down syndrome understandably didn’t either. Her whole family did.
We made it through the checkout and were leaving the store when the receipt-checking dude glared at my son and held my receipt hostage.
“How old is he?” he barked through both a mask and a face shield.
“Three,” I said. “He’s autistic and I’m doing my best, but he doesn’t understand to keep it on.”
He kept glaring at me and at my oblivious son. We were leaving the store, for goodness’ sakes.
“Hmmph,” he grunted, finally marking my receipt and handing it back to me.
I got out of there as fast as I could, Mickey Mouse mask clenched in my fist. I felt like people were staring. Judging if they hadn’t heard the explanation.
But here’s the thing: I know kids who don't have autism who hate keeping their masks on. Masks make it seem harder to breathe. They block off an entire section of a kid’s face — their noses, their talkative mouths.
Parents are trying. Honestly, we are. But please don’t get mad at us if you see our kids unmasked at Costco or anywhere else. Especially if we personally have our masks on and you can see our anxious eyes above the fabric.
No one ever told us that mask-wearing enforcement would become an essential part of parenthood in 2020. Just as you should when you see a toddler throwing a tantrum at the store, go ahead and give us an encouraging smile as we struggle to slip elastic behind our little ones’ soft ears.
For now, I wear my mask at the regular grocery store (which doesn’t require them) and encourage my son to wear his for as long as he can. When he takes it off, that’s fine. He’s done.
We’ll just be staying away from Costco until all this is over. We can make do without the super-sized eggs, milk, and shame.
