Choose Your Battles

She shook her head, allowing it to fall with a slap into her cupped hands as the young boy got down onto all fours on the ground, beginning to rock and make loud groaning sound. Everyone was starting to stare, and she couldn't think of anything else to do but close her eyes and breathe for a minute.
"Oh, Harry! Please!" she said in a whisper, kneeling beside him.
Feeling her near him, Harry extended his arm, beginning to throw it wildly through the air around him as if he were swatting a fly.
"Oh Harry, love, just listen to me," she said, edging away a little. "Look," she said putting her hands in the air. "I'm nowhere near you. Harry, please..."

There was silence for a few minutes but for Harry's continued groaning before he slowly looked up, finally meeting his mother's eyes.
"See? I couldn't touch you even if I wanted to. You're too far away."
Harry nodded in acknowledgment, continuing to hold her gaze as he waited for her to speak.
"Harry, you can't fight every single thing you come across." Harry rose to his feet. "But that man threw his cigarette butt on the ground. He did not dispose of it properly. He left it on the ground and that is illegal. He should be arrested," he said pointing accusingly at where the cigarette butt lay a few metres away before folding his arms across his chest.
"Well maybe, but that's not for us to say," said his mother.
"Smoking should be illegal," said Harry in response.
"It's not, Harry," she said, "and there's nothing we can do about it, so there's no use worrying, is there?"

At that, Harry got back down on the ground again, rocking and groaning. His mother let out a heavy breath and looked up at the sky before looking helplessly about her surroundings.
Spotting the seemingly distressed woman, a policeman approached. "Are you alright Ma'am?" he asked when he came close. "Is he alright?" he asked, eyeing Harry, still rocking on the ground and making groaning noises, though they were softer than before.
"He should be fine," said Harry's mother with a sigh. "He does this all the time. He's autistic"
"Oh," said the policeman. "I see."

"Mother, is that a policeman?" Harry asked, lifting his head ever so slightly from the ground. His mother didn't answer, for the sight that met Harry's eyes when he looked up further answered his question instead. "Oh good," he said, rising to his feet again. "Officer, there was a man, over there and he dropped his cigarette butt on the ground when he was smoking, and that is illegal. You should go and arrest him."
"That is bad," said the policeman, quickly winking at Harry's mother. "Thank you for reporting it, young man. I'll get on it straight away."
"Oh, and officer," Harry said as the policeman made to move away, but he turned back to face Harry. "Is smoking illegal?"
"I don't know son," said the policeman. "Perhaps."
"Well it should be," said Harry definitely. "Can you do that Officer? Can you make smoking illegal?"
"Well, i suppose I can work on it," said the policeman, walking away.

Harry turned back to his mother. "He was nice."
"Yes," said his mother, a tiny smile escaping her lips. "yes he was."
She shook her head as Harry noticed another piece of 'criminal activity' going on. Sighing, she picked up her pace to follow after him.

"Harry," she said, holding his gaze firmly. She would have liked to have held his shoulders, but she knew what that would result in. "You can't fight every single battle, love," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because no one can."
"But the policeman..."
"Harry, you need to choose your battles."
"What do you mean?"
"Choose your battles," repeated his mother. "because you can't fight every single one. So you need to choose which ones are the most important and fight them. Choose your battles."
"Oh." Was all Harry said.