Pizza Casserole

Every married couple at some point in life makes one very important decision - When to have kids.

For me, I was in no hurry. It was a big decision and I didn't think I was mature enough for the resposibilty compared to other moms I knew. I still haven't really changed much in this respect.
After a few years, we decided it was time. We gave birth to our first born in January 1999.

When Rebecca was about 3, we discovered that she had a mind of her own, but we had concerns. After a series of evaluations, it was determined that she had a mild form of autism. Though measures had to be taken to secure proper arrangements and we would not observe normal development patters, this news, for some reason, never bothered me.

We faced many challenges as her speech was delayed, she was not always in the most suitable learning environment, and doesn't connect socially for someone her age. But, one thing holds true. She knows who she is and we let her be that person.

Over the years, she has been passionate about many things. The first thing I remember was the color red. She cried at the Special Olympics when she was handed the first place ribbon instead of the
red second place one for the 50-yard dash. She loved the movie Toy Story and wore the Buzz Lightyear light up shoes that I had to special order online to get the right size. Lastly, I have more Dale Earnhart Jr. paraphanaglia than I know what to do with now that she no longer likes NASCAR.

Through the many phases that we would see, pizza was something that was always consistent. One afternoon, Rebecca had informed me of a mac and cheese cook off the youth group was having at church. She enthusiastically reminded me for 7 straight days that she wanted to enter and made me promise not to forget.

We thought that if both mac and cheese and pizza were combined, the odds would be in our favor. Rebecca did all the work as she cooked noodles, stired in sauce and baked for 30 minutes at 350 degrees. With my pot holders, a casserole dish in hand and a trip
across the parking lot, the games would begin.

When I returned two hours later, I noticed something in her hand as she walked to the car. It wasn't my pot holders which she left behind. She had informed me that she would be treating us to dinner
at The Olive Garden. Unmistakably, she had won the cook-off.

Her pizza mac and cheese is now a regular item on our menu. Though she wants it often, we have it every few weeks or so as we do not want to tire of it. Last week, she informed me that it had been long enough since the last time as I was planning the weekly meals.
She mentioned it throughout the week and made sure I added all the ingrediants to the grocery list.

I left that afternoon to go teach like always. When I came home, she had the table set, the oven heated and the water boiling. I didn't have to cook that night.

Autism doesn't bother me.