Parents of kids with autism don't eat out very much. It's the noise, the crowds, the waiting - all potential triggers to upset their child and create a miserable night for everyone.

And they do mean everyone.

"I'm always conscious about bothering other people," says Dawn Cobak, the Beverly mother of a 41âÑ2-year-old with autism.

Yet the alternative of staying home every night doesn't seem right, or very fair. All families deserve the treat of ordering off a menu and the reprieve from dirty dishes once in a while.

Which is why a group of six kids and six adults headed to Friendly's in Peabody on a recent Tuesday afternoon for something more than ice cream. They came from the Futures Behavior Therapy Center in Beverly, a place that provides treatment to autistic kids, including teaching them social skills.

This summer, they took trips to Richardson's, Dairy Queen and Dick & June's. Friendly's was the first attempt to sit down at a table with a waitress. But instead of teaching the kids a lesson, the group left Friendly's feeling that the public still has a lot to learn about autism.

Shortly after arriving, one 6-year-old girl became upset. She started screaming. At one point, she flopped down onto the floor. She tried to bite and scratch the therapist.

"It was a pretty severe tantrum," says Jenny Weiss, a behavioral therapist at Futures, who was working with the girl that day.

People started to stare. They sighed. Some customers made comments, loud enough for them to hear, about how they should get that child under control.

Weiss took the girl to the bathroom to try to calm her down and returned to the table. While staff decided the next strategy, a waitress approached. She reported that the child was bothering other customers.

"She said, 'You're going to need to do something,"' Weiss recalled.

As they left Friendly's, the waitress asked if the child was disabled. Weiss told her she was autistic. The waitress asked if a piece of candy would help.

From start to end, Weiss and the child were inside Friendly's for 15 minutes.

"I completely understand how this tantrum was upsetting people's meals," Weiss says. "But if people could just be a little more tolerant, instead of gawking and making comments. It's not the child's fault."

In hindsight, the group could have taken a pre-emptive strike to let the waitress and the customers know that the child is autistic. They have cards to pass out to apologize for a child's disruptive behavior and educate about autism. They forgot to bring them along.

"When it starts to get really bad with a tantrum, you lose your bearings," says Cobak, who also works at Futures.

A little kindness would have gone a long way.

Part of the problem, says Weiss and others, is that kids with autism don't look any different.

People assume they are "brats" and parents are to blame for the bad behavior.

The perception isn't helped any by Michael Savage, the syndicated radio talk show host who last month announced that autism is a "fraud." "In 99 percent of the cases," he said, "it's a brat who hasn't been told to cut the act out."

"He's just caused havoc with parents of autistic children," Cobak says.

Friendly's is investigating the incident, but a spokeswoman said that in general they treat all their customers with respect.

With practice and patience, many autistic kids can learn how to eat in a restaurant. But the practice needs to take place in public, and that can make some people uncomfortable.

"Where do you go," Cobak asks, "if you can't take them to Friendly's?"

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Staff writer Susan Flynn can be reached at 978-338-2658 or by e-mail at sflynn@salemnews.com.