What We Need

     Like my mother told me, I tell C I have “eyes in the back of my head” when it comes to him. It worked with me as a kid; I believed my Mom could see everything I was doing. But C isn’t that easy. He. Must. Test. Constantly. “Mommy, without turning around, can you see what direction my train is going?”

     Not realizing yet I was being tested, I said, “Forward.”

    “Nope,” he said, “it’s going backward. Why couldn’t you see that with your eyes behind ya?”

     “Mommy, I have no one to play with. Who else can play with me? There’s no one else in my house. All of my imaginary friends are on vacation.”

     There is very little gray in C’s life. We love to see those moments when the line between black and white has been blurred, but they are few and far between. Subtle humor and plays on words are often not in C’s realm of thinking. It allows for a different kind of humor to play out - one where we enjoy his literalism, and it provides some hilarious moments.

     Recently C and Daddy were playing baseball at the park. As C tried running around the bases, Daddy reminded him to touch home plate. He came around third, sprinted into home, stopped, bent over, and placed his hand on home. There’s no arguing with that logic; he did exactly what Daddy told him to do.

     The other night a mosquito bit C on the forehead, and he was very upset. In order to get him to stop screaming, I told him I’d draw a picture of that mean old mosquito. Underneath the mosquito, I wrote, “Mr. Mosquito, poop on him!” C studied the picture intensely, calming almost immediately. “But Mommy,” he said, “where’s the poop on him?”

     Who needs TV? We’ve got constant, live entertainment, right in our living room.

Mommy, why do you think Ms. Mc wasn’t at science night? Maybe she had something else to do - maybe you guys wore her out at school today and she’s already asleep! Do you think she’s dreaming about the boys and girls in her class?  Maybe she’s dreaming about us losing our recess!!!

(From writing journal) The mailman is inpornant to send us and every budy mail.

I can’t find my smile….it’s nowhere to be seen. I will be wearing my sad face for a long, long time.

(From writing journal) Once a puon of time there was a Mom. She was a helpful person.

Can you inside this out for me?

(After stubbing his toe) My toe is clobbered.

Do girls’ breasts just pop out? Does it happen in just a minute?

MOMMY! THERE’S A SPIDER! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!!!

(As I’m getting ready to go out to the pool in a bikini…) Mommy, why do you have THOSE breasts on today?

How many babies do you think I should get? Maybe 2 or 3. Or 7. I’ll have to make a big house with 7 rooms. Where will YOU sleep, C?  I’ll share a room with one of my babies. Unless he has the flu. Then I’ll take care of him.

     I’m really not trying to be political here, because it’s not what I do, but C is intensely interested in the election all of a sudden. It has renewed his prior interest in heaven, and has now merged with his interest in Presidents. This morning’s conversation went something like this:

“Mommy, is that Barack Mogana on the tv?”

“Yes, C, it is Barack Obama.”

“Is he our new President? Did George Bush pick him?”

“No, the outgoing President doesn’t get to pick the new President. Barack Obama (probably) and John McCain will have to run against each other and the voters will decide who is the next President.”

“I hope Barack OBAMA will be the next President. I think he would make a very good President. I hope I’m President someday and that people would vote for me.”

“I think you’d make a great President, C. I’d definitely vote for you, and I think lots of people would.”

“Yeah. Mommy, when I’m in heaven will I meet the Presidents?”

“Sure you will, and you can ask them lots of questions!”

[Grins] “COOL! I didn’t know that. How did you know that? Did you learn it in school?”

      Granted, it is the last week of school, but somehow I doubt C’s teacher has a lesson on heaven, the Presidents and the election planned.

     C has always been interested in money. He loves coins, bills and anything having to do with them, which is why he became interested in Presidents. He wanted to know who the guys were on the money, so we bought him a President card deck. He learned their names, where they were born, which number President they were, what their nickname was, and he knew their faces. This happened within the span of a week when he was 4. He was utterly addicted, and even though he can’t recite that list with complete accuracy any longer, he is still quite interested in the old guys.

     Several years ago, when Hillary Clinton started making noise about running for President, along with John McCain, C decided they should run together on the same ticket. That dream for him has died (although I suppose anything could happen at this point), but the other day, he walked with Husband to get the mail. Barack Obama’s picture was on the cover of some news magazine, and C asked who he was. He came running back to tell me that “Barack Mogana is going to be the next President!”

    The child has spoken. Print up the new card, please.  

     Today was one of those days…you know the kind - where nothing seems to go right? From the moment I woke up, at 6:15, to the ear-splitting scream (via baby monitor, which apparently sits WAY too close to my ear) of “MOMMY!!!!!!!!!”  to this moment of going to bed, typing hunt and peck style due to the bandaged and very sensitive finger, it has been a rough one.

     After hurling myself out of bed and running across the house expecting giant aliens to be coming through the windows or at least some blood, I entered C’s room and found him sans UFOs or major injury to life or limb. “What?” I asked, not altogether nicely, yet still expecting some unseen disaster to appear before me. “Ummmm, I can’t sleep. Will you snuggle with me?” Now, darn, if this isn’t just adorable, and sometimes might even work, but not today. After a brief, few sentences with choice words about when it’s appropriate to yell at Mommy in the wee hours, I went back to bed. It was short lived, however. Only mere minutes after I fell back to sleep, came the next most pleasant way to be awakened, which is “I NEED A WIPE!” This one is a constant occupational therapist’s nightmare as it’s particularly difficult to teach a body unaware, fine motor skills challenged, can’t place hands on something unseen even if it is part of one’s body, and still doesn’t wash hands very well little person how to wipe his own bottom.

     This was day two of C staying home with a cold. He’s not particularly sick, but if he overdoes it, he will be. So he’s been home hanging out with his humidifier and doing his best to drive me to drink. Today, however, determined to do something productive with him, I decided we’d do a craft together. We searched the Highlights magazine craft pages, and I picked out two crafts that seemed doable and for which we had supplies. Naturally, when presented with the two options, C picked out a third. I reiterated the two choices and he picked yet another one on the page. This went on until he had chosen every single craft on the page except the two I said we could choose from. At that point, I left him in his room.

     Once he decided to participate, I asked him to get four pieces of recycled paper. Predictably, he said he wanted new paper, and I repeated the request for recycled paper. He went and picked out new paper anyway. Then he went back to his room. This went on for quite some time, during which I had the usual argument I have with myself while in the midst of these episodes. I recognize the need for bending to C’s idiosyncrasies, but I also recognize the need to have a child who is capable of completing a task I request. This is a difficult balance, and one which causes great struggle for me. C is so high functioning that at times I wonder if I’m too hard on him and am forgetting the challenges he faces; that recycled paper (with printing already on one side) likely bothers him on a deep sensory level. It sounds silly, but I suspect it’s true - the writing on one side probably distracts him, catches his eye, annoys him. And the constant need to debate, discuss, and argue is probably not only resultant of his feeling crummy, but also an effort to exert some control over his environment. So I feel like Bad Mommy lady, but I know giving in at this point will make all future debates and discussions far more difficult, so I hold my ground.

     When he does come around, we happily sit down to make our cut out butterflies, and my punishment for being Bad Mommy is quick to come. I promptly send the scissor blade right into my index finger, and while the blood is dripping down my arm, I am reminded of this morning’s worry. It has come full circle, and I expect the UFOs to be landing out in the backyard any moment now.

C’s April journal came home recently. Here are some of the highlights:

…I hope it will be so so so so so so much fun. I think galaga 90 will be much funner. I think I will love it so much because it will be fun. It will be so much fun. I think it will be fun.

Today we saw caterpillars. I loved them. They were cool. I want to see them again because I was surprised of them.

Yesterday we went to the Desert Gardens. I love that place. It is so so so so so much fun….It was really fun. I liked it so much. It was so much fun.

Next week I am geting the A to Z mystery books. I will love the A B C D E F and X are my favorites. I think it will be so so so so so so so so so so much fun. I will like it so much fun. It will be so cool because I will love it. It will be very fun.

Today I am having fun after school because I will maybe have my basketball game. It will be so much fun. I will love it. I hope N & J will come. I think I will love it. It is cool. I will like it so much because it will be cool.

This weekend I am having B over. It will be very fun. I will be so happy for him to come over. I will really like it. It will be so cool.

I’m envisioning counted word book reports in junior high school where he’s trying all the old tried and true tricks to lengthen his writing. Big print, lots of adjectives, and apparently, the word “so” as much as possible. 

The book was so cool. I really liked it. It was fun. It was so so so so good.

That works, doesn’t it?

     Watching C’s humor develop has been, well, humorous. I remember the first time he really belly laughed as a baby, and it was very, very delayed, so we were waiting for it. He was a happy baby, but he just didn’t laugh. I still revel in the moments when he does laugh with all he’s worth. He’s definitely learned that he’s supposed to laugh when other people do, as evidenced by him cackling in response to adults laughing in another room - as if he was part of the conversation. Which, of course, prompts another laugh by those adults.

     Lately, he’s been testing out his own jokes. “Knock knock” jokes are beyond him, and plays on words are most definitely not understood. But he’s trying out silly names for people to see if they get any response. They are generally spontaneous sayings created from whatever he happens to be seeing at the time. ”You’re a water slide, Mommy.” “You’re a kitchen sink…a color catalogue…a toilet paper…a bouncy ball.” And then he waits. To see if anything sticks. If we laugh, we can guarantee the name will be repeated at least a zillion times.

     And that’s how I became a green tree.