Today, I hurt my child. Yes, you read that correctly. I physically restrained him, hurt him, and made him cry. And he is only four years old.

Why would I do such a thing, you might ask. The answer might surprise you.

He needed a haircut.

Did I beat or harm him in so many of the awful ways adults choose to brutalize their children? No, of course not. I love him. Like most of you, I would gladly give my life for him.

But, today, he needed a haircut. A haircut he didn't want — not because he is incorrigible. It's because he's autistic, and many children with autism cannot tolerate the experience of a haircut.

A while ago, a story made the rounds of Ashley Bays, mother of an autistic two-year-old son. She took her little boy to a salon to get a haircut. When her son began screaming and reacting to the haircut, the salon owner came out and loudly berated Ashley for her son's disruption of her salon. In tears, the mother apologized and explained her son's autism. The stylist had to finish the child's haircut on the sidewalk outside. This mother's distress and humiliation are well known to most parents of autistic kids.

Across the Internet, there was commentary. As you might imagine or been guilty of yourself, some of it was quite ugly. Some questioned whether it was a simple case of poor parenting. Why else would the child behave so badly over something that doesn't hurt? After all, it's not like he was getting a shot or having a tooth filled, right?

Therein lies the problem that many special needs parents face when taking their children out in public. Many people simply don't know what they're seeing. They judge, based upon their own preconceived ideas, and condemn accordingly. In this case, they didn't know about a disorder that often accompanies autism — Sensory Processing Disorder.

Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) is what happens when what a person senses (via touch, taste, sound, sight) is not accurately processed by the brain in order to elicit the appropriate response. Some people with SPD do not experience enough sensation to react appropriately to pain, hunger, etc. And others experience too much sensation — so much that enduring it becomes unbearable.

So what is so terrible about a haircut? Well, if you have SPD, you might experience a few different things:

Pain. Many people with SPD cannot stand to be touched. What might feel like a pleasant or neutral sensation to us when touched can actually be interpreted by their brains as pain. Literal physical pain. Irritation. Even the lightest sensation can prove highly irritating to those with SPD. Especially if that sensation is unusual, itchy, or ticklish. Those little hairs that your stylist will brush off of your neck, face, and collar can be torture to an SPD sufferer. Overload. People with SPD often have difficulty tuning out background noise. A plane overhead, clinking glasses, and moving chairs can startle them and overwhelm their senses much like fireworks or alarms. This is in addition to an extra sensitivity to bright light, different types of lighting, and variations in temperature. Combine all this discomfort with difficulty communicating it (common in autism, but does not apply to all), and you are headed for a complete meltdown.

That's what happened to Ashley Bays' little boy. That's what is happening to most autistic children you see in hair salons, doctors' offices, Santa waiting lines, theme park rides, classrooms, and restaurants who are screaming and flipping out. It's very simple. They are being assaulted by their world. They are uncomfortable, scared, and possibly in pain. Like anyone else who is suffering, they want it to stop. But depending upon their level of cognitive or social functioning, they may not understand that their reaction is causing passersby distress as well. And it is a reaction, caused by the child's neurology — not poor behavior or a lack of parenting.

The problem for their parents is that we cannot live barricaded in our homes. We must provide our children with medical and dental care, an education — and haircuts. Since we cannot do all of those things on our own, we have to find providers for them. And, yes, sometimes we even need to have fun or go out to dinner.

Sometimes our haircuts, dinners out, and medical appointments will coincide with yours. I'm sorry for that. I know it's annoying. But I'm more sorry for my child than for you.

Yesterday, we attempted to take our son to a new stylist with a one-booth salon. It was quiet, dim, and fairly small. We thought we might find success. Instead, we found ourselves lifting a miserable and terrified child off the sidewalk — before we even got in the door. We know from experience that our son cannot tolerate the touch required to have a scissor cut. So, we went and bought a set of clippers. After making every effort to calm him, make him comfortable, and distract him from the process, we finally had to just give up and get it done.

His screams broke my heart. He sobbed and lifted his little arms up for me to carry him away from his distress. I held him in a hug and prayed for it to end quickly. It was five minutes of hell. When it was finished, we had frazzled nerves, hair everywhere, and a very bad haircut that included conspicuous chunks of bald patches on the neckline from sudden movements while he attempted to flail about. We decided that we'd all had enough and would live with it.

What we also had is forever etched in my memory — a puddle of tears on the floor next to his cut hair. He had cried that hard. In a few months, we'll have to do it again. And that's just a haircut.

So, the next time a crying child upsets your lunch date, manicure, or reading time in a waiting room, please — if nothing else — be kind. Yes, you might be correct that the wailing child might have terrible parents. But weigh that with the other possibilities of what might be happening in that family. For not every struggle is evident. Pointed stares and obnoxious comments will not likely affect a bad parent. But they are devastating to good ones. Good ones who are already fighting battles you might not be able to imagine — who would cherish a supportive smile kind comment, or even a request to help, if warranted. Like the kind sandwich shop owner who just yesterday told me I had nothing to apologize for when I attempted to explain why my son was behaving the way he did.

Those are the parents your words and actions will affect. Please choose those words and actions with compassion. Because, like everyone who plans to grow old, there will come a day when you are the unwitting source of inconvenience for others. I hope that you are granted the very same compassion you have demonstrated in life.

Of course, what that will be is entirely up to you.