Their parents would take them to the medico for some reason, a checkup or something, and the doc would come back with a serious expression on it's face and tell the assembled just what were what...

Instead of the new Barbie styles, Melinda would now have to worry about dairy products.

Instead of jeans and banana seats, Bobby would now have to worry about everything that stung, flew or crawled.

I don't remember hearing about diabetes among my schoolmates until I was in High School. I did have a couple teachers die on me, one in fourth grade.

I knew kids who were suddenly allergic to peanuts. I knew kids who were suddenly allergic to certain soaps. This was all around 1970, in the burgeoning era of environmental concern.

I was sensitive to a lot of things, from detergents and fabric softeners, lights and sounds, fabric textures and odd surfaces, the greasiness of my hair oil and the roughness of the cheap pencil leads against crappy notepaper... but my idiot parents regarded these as things that I could get used to or at least shut up about.

One thing those morons couldn't get past was my eyes. When it turned out that I wasn't just goofing off and not paying attention, that I really couldn't SEE that well, they had to break down and get me some glasses. Big surprise, as they both wore them. So did almost everyone in my immediate family. I was in the third grade. My daughter got her first specs in first grade.

I know Aspergers didn't exist in the popular mind forty years ago, but you have to wonder why someone wasn't paying attention. I wasn't strictly speaking a problem child, that appellation might better apply to my parents...

a couple of drunks...