You might be autistic if…

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Dinner at 8:30 at night. Because, finally she agrees to eat something. And the menu is: sliced cheddar cheese, a kiwi, uncooked pasta, grapes, and still frozen pizza rolls –because she likes them better that way–and which she has always called, “Babies.” Yes, it gets some pretty weird looks in the grocery store when you ask what she wants for dinner, and she spends the rest of the trip shrilly chanting, “I want to eat babies I want to eat babies I want to eat babies…”
All served in a compartmentalized cafeteria tray, so nothing touches.

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