Perspective taking – Nice but dim

I remember the festive season when I was small; my family confined together in cozy home with condensation on the window panes. My mother’s expression was one of displeasure with large blotches of annoyance – a message without any other clues. Being clueless, she added words – “why don’t you play in your room!”
“O.k.”
Lots more toys up there.
“What do you think your bedroom is for?”
Sleep?
“Do you think you might do something to help?” Helping seemed like a good idea; I considered myself to be a helpful sort of a child. Given the choice between unhelpful and helpful, I’d definitely opt for helpful; who’d choose the negative? I thought, quite wrongly, that my beaming smile was an indication of willingness and readiness. I should have probably added words to match my demeanor, something like, ‘yes, here I am, awaiting orders.’
“Open your eyes!”
They were already, so I blinked, just to make sure.
“Look at this place! Look at the mess!”

I looked.

There were my toys, quite a lot of them. My little brother’s toys were scattered without any noticeable order – very messy. There was my teenage sister’s paraphernalia; boring stuff with very little entertainment value. My Dad’s papers, books, stamps, albums and equipment were neatly arranged on a small collapsible table, poised in front of his winged backed chair. Next to it was my mother’s winged backed chair, because they were a pair. On and around her chair were masses of bags and boxes, with a side table at arm’s reach. Every surface was piled high with knitting, embroidery, darning, mending, many books on a wide variety of topics, all open, not even stacked – a veritable mountain of mess.
“Shall I tidy it?”
“Yes you will!”
I stood alone in the room for a moment, pondering my mother’s lair. What, if anything, could be squished into something else? It was just as I was jamming the knitting into the basket that my mother returned and squeaked, “mind!” but I was ahead of her, I had no intention of impaling myself on the needles. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Tidying.”
She shooed me away as you would a chicken, flighty creatures renowned for their small brains. “For the last time!”
Last time?
“Will you pick up your toys?”
My toys?
Well why didn’t you just say so in the first place and I might have acquiesced to your unreasonable demand, I’m nothing if not helpful.

It’s my turn now because I’m the mum. I often misjudge - forget. Sometimes it takes me a couple of attempts. It’s usually just when I’m about to blow my stack with exasperation that I remember.

There’s a lot to be said for specificity and logic.

Fools Seldom Differ

I’m not a great fan of ‘teachable moments,’ or rather I am in theory, it’s just the practice that’s time consuming and such hard work.

I learned my lesson a very long time ago. I think it’s basically a male thing, but I could be wrong. One wrong thing you can do, especially if you happen to be female, is to bounce into the room and sing “Ta dah! What do you think?” This is a universal invitation to disappointment. The response could be any one of the following: ‘I didn’t know you could sing / are you going to finish the rest of the song now / you really shouldn’t bounce like that wearing high heels.’

No.

To flounce out in a huff is childish. Far better to give a hint, or a clue, or better still, a plain explanation. “Hi! Do you like my new frock, the one that I’m wearing right now?” Care should also be taken in other more vague areas. Instead of asking ‘do you like my hair this way’ it’s better to ask ‘do you like my new hair cut / dye job / hair style.’ In effect, there should be as little wriggle room as possible. In fact, in some cases, it’s better to feed the line, “I’m sure you like my new shoes as much as I do.”

Some may feel that this kind of extracted and contrived compliment isn’t worth the spittle of production, and I would be inclined to agree with you. Part of the problem is that in ordinary every day life, this kind of thing crops up all the time. Far better to equip our children with a rudimentary arsenal, for protection.

That of course, takes practice.[*]

One of the many funny things about autism, if you don’t happen to be autistic yourself, is that some fundamentals remain the same. I’m not saying that they don’t grow and change, more that some major underpinnings are always present. You would think that most people with half a wit, parents such as myself, would know this. And yet over and over again, I forget. While my children have a good vocabulary, [now] there are little holes in the lexicon, bits and bobs that just aren’t important enough to file away for future reference.

“Hey guys! What do you think of my new ear-rings? See here….my ears?”
“Ear…….rings?”
“Yes, look at my ears. See these things hanging from the little hole?”
“Dey are not rings. Dey are being fish….fish……hooks with dangly bits.”
“Do you like the dangly bits?”
“Is is an ellipse.”
“Yes I suppose they, are sort of.”
“It is browny beetle colored.”
“I thought they were honey colored?”
“No honey is being golden. Dat is not being golden.”
“Right. So do you like them then?”
“I fink it is sight pleasing but are brain hurting.”
“Ah.”
“I fink it is bad to put sharp things in your body parts.”
“Hmm. Right. Fair enough.”
“But it’s o.k. mum!”
“Is it? Why?”
“Coz peoples are likin and dislikin different things.”
“!” There’s nothing like having your inadequate ditties quoted back at you.
“Any ways……”
“Hmm?”
“Dey are not be rings.”
“Yes you already said that…..you explained that they’re really hooks.”
“No but…..?”
“But what dear?”
“Um…….not plural.”
“Plural?”
“It is only being singular.”
“Dang! Where’s the other one gone then!”

[*] for future reference, for anyone that doesn’t already know, when you’re presented with the new thing for comment, the response ‘how much did it cost?’ it's always wrong.

What is that? Indigestible!

I coax my son.

"Have a go. You may just like it."
"Bleah!"
"I know you don't like butter but this is different."
"Bleah!"
"It can count as your new food for the day if you like?"
"Bleah!"
"That's vinegar. Remember you like salt and vinegar crisps now?"
"Bleah!"
"You could have this instead of butter, every night."
"Bleah!"
"It's so much better for you."
"Bleah!"
"And it will help fatten you up."
"Bleah!"
"I thought you said you wanted to be fatter? Didn't we agree?"
"Bleah!"
"Just dip the corner of your bread in. You don't even have to get your fingers dirty."
"Bleah!"
"I don't understand? I thought you were willing to have a go?"
"I wuz."
"Great! Off you go then."
"Not now."
"Why not now?"
"Because......it is different now."
"What's different now?"
"Dah oil and dah vinegar."
"What's different about them now than when they were in the bottle?"
"Dah shaping."
"What shaping?"
"It's bad."
"What's bad?"
"MOM!"
"Yes dear?"
"Don you get it?"
"Er.....no......no I don't get it."
"I cannot be eating of dah parallelogram."
"!"














If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

How to insult someone in a foreign language

I drop the cleaver in favour of the whisk and the rapidly deflating soufflé whilst my children squabble, full of hot air and pent up emotion.
“Jus leave it alone why dontcha! Yah lil ol dipstick.”
“Don’t call him a dipstick dear.”
“Why?”
“It’s not kind to insult people without reason or rather….”
“But I do have a reason.”
“Oh…..well don’t do it anyway. He’ll think you’re being mean.”
“But I wanna be mean.”
“Oh dear. Why….?”
“What it is?” interjects the insultee.
“What is what dear?”
“What is a dipstick being?”
“Ah….well a dipstick is a stick that you poke or rather dip, into the oil in your car to see if there’s enough juice.”
“What kinda juice?”
“Oh not juice, I meant oil.”
“Dere is being oil in dah car?”
“Yes.”
“Is dat being dah English car?”
“Er……no all cars run on oil or rather have oil in them and petrol of course.”
“Aha! It is being dah English cars.”
“How so?”
“English cars are being dah petrol but American cars are being dah gas.”

I’ve always wondered about gas fired cars? Just as well some people are fueled by logic.

Notable Quotes of the week

"Were you two up all night giggling?"
"I dunno, I was asleep."

***

"Did you have a good day at school?"
"No."
"Oh dear..........why not?"
"We had a substitute creature."

***

Define ‘daughter’?
= a female son

Can't fault the logic my friend!

Nutritional advice from the Neophobic

“Whatsup mum?”
“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”
“Dis is a boat! Dis is a boat! Dis is a boat!”
“Whataya thinking about?”
“Scorchio! Scorchio! Scorchio!”
“Dinner.”
“Ding ding, ding ding, ding ding.”
“For us?”
“There’s a name for people like you, there’s a name for people like you, there’s a name for people like you!” I pause to look at him, but he is elsewhere. I do not like to think where he has picked this up. I determine to find out where, later.
“Well just the three of us, not your little brother of course.”
“Eat yur veggies! Eat yur veggies! Eat yur veggies!”
“What are you cookin in the microwave then?”
“Go Mario go! Go Mario go! Go Mario go! “
‘Homework.”
“Ready for battle! Ready for battle! Ready for battle!”
“Homework?”
“No receipt, no returns!”
“He spilled his water on it, again.”
“Never say never! Never say never! Never say never!”
“Yur cookin his homework?”
“Everyone’s a winner! Everyone’s a winner! Everyone’s a winner!”
“Yes, it works a treat, although it is a bit crinkly.”
“Stripy eggs, spotty eggs, coloured eggs.”
“What’s he havin to eat tonight?”
“Easter baskets, Easter bonnets, Easter Butts.”
“A little brown rice, half a banana and some chocolate pudding if I can find a second to make it.”
“Chocolate pudding! Chocolate pudding! Chocolate pudding!”
"What are we havin?"
“Pasta. I'm just not sure whether to have tomatoe soup first or Minestrone first?”
“Dis year or next year, dis year or next year, dis year or next year.”
“Don’t matter, I like em both!”
“Nice water pipe! Nice water pipe! Nice water pipe!”
“Yes but there’s a problem.”
“Easter bunnies, Christmas bunnies, St. Patrick’s Day bunnies.”
“What?”
“Mama Mia! Mama Mia! Mama Mia!”
“You can’t have Minestrone before a pasta dish because it has pasta in it already and you can’t have tomatoe soup before because you have tomatoe sauce on your pasta.”
“Cheese nip! Cat nip! Nip and tuck!”
“So what? I mean, why, what difference does it make?”
“Gratuity not included! Gratuity not included! Gratuity not included!”
“Because you’d be having the same thing twice over.”
“Pot of gold, pot of gold, pot of gold.”
“So….I mean why?”
“Mario said it! Mario said it! Mario said it!”
“Well it’s hardly balanced is it?”
She looks at me with a blank stare, as well she might. Sometimes it's so hard to think straight, or even wonky. My son pauses too, a brief respite for motor mouth, before he offers his contribution, “but at least they are be match!”

House of cards

It has all gone to rack and ruin. We have endured several nights of sleep deprivation. I nip down at hourly intervals to replace my "ice-packs" and the boys keep sneaking out of bed to stare at the blank television screen and wait for morning and electronics time.

With their father "away" we have no back stop, no terminator to shoo them back into bed. It’s the life of the living dead.

I leave them all upstairs tucked in and stagger down to clean up before I expire.

I am swiftly up to my armpits in washing up when it begins:-

“Mom! Mom come quick!”
“What is it dear?”
“There’s a bug!”
“You’re not afraid of insects.”
“No but this is a termite.”
“A termite? How do you know it’s a termite?”
“Coz it’s bigger than an ant.”
“Where is it?”
“On the boys’ bedroom wall.”
“What were you doing in there! You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”
“I can’t go to sleep if we’re infested with termites! Come on, come and take a look.”

I return upstairs with her. At least it’s more imaginative than ‘a drink of water’ or ‘I think I’m going to be having a nightmare.’ I am ready to offer my expert opinion, calm nerves and generally ensure that everyone is asleep within the next thirty minutes before I blow a fuse.

“Ah. Let me see. No. That’s definitely not a termite, it’s just a big ant.”
“How do you know?”
“Because termites are at least three times as big as that and they’re black.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, as apart from anything else termites don’t come upstairs until they’ve finished in the basement. Basement is an appetizer, ground floor is the soup, first floor is the main course and pudding is up in the attic, so they’ve got a long way to go until they get all the way up here.”

I hope that I sound confident and convincing. Where are all the scientists when you need them? Why is their father in England rather than waxing lyrical on the subject of wildlife? Is there no end to the duties I must perform? I’m tempted to go on line and drag “Andrea” to "buzz about" over here to earn her keep. Why don’t I have ‘instant messaging’ for such occasions? I check three pairs of liquid eyes to check whether all is well.

“Um…..is dah……are dey……are our house is be made of wood?”
“Yes indeed it is. We’re in California and all houses are made of wood here.”
“Why they are being made out of wood?”

It is bedtime, sleepy time, I am definitely sleepy even if nobody else is around here. I completely refuse to be tripped into the psychological minefield of ‘earthquakes.’
“They are made of wood because the Pilgrim father’s only had enough bricks for three houses on the Mayflower, otherwise they would have sunk.”
“Oh.”
“Termites are vegetarians?”
“Usually but they’re more than a bit partial to the odd housefly.”
“They are be eatin dah wood?”
“Only when they’re run out of houseflies and you know how many flies we have around here with all those useless holey bug screens. We have enough houseflies to keep them busy until Christmas…..at least.”
“You are know…..”
“I know…......what do I know?”
“If dah termites are eatin at dah bottom of dah house first….den……we are all be fallin down, poof, poof, poof!”

Detour down a blind alley – the right to light

“What it is?”
“What is what dear?”
“Dat fing?”
“What thing dear?”
“Da fing dat is not dah window?”

“Er…” I gaze out of the car searching for ‘what it is?’ is England, in the rain, driving on the wrong side of the road, where everything is very confusing for them, not the least of which must be the rain, driving on the wrong side of the road. “Do you have any more describing words to help me dear?”
“Um……when is a window not a window?”
“Oh dear, I’m not sure that that really helps lovey.”
“Er dat fing on dah houses which is looking like a window but it is looking like dah wall too.”
“Oh yes of course, silly me.”

Now that I understand the question, ideally I should like to provide a fully comprehensive answer that is capable of being understood by a six and a half year old. Preferably an answer that is full enough to curtail additional questions or confusion. I would prefer to avoid matters that they are unlikely to understand, like tax. [translation = abstract concepts such as money, currency, exchange rates and tax have yet to be covered] I need the conversation to be brief, as I have to move on to more important matters, namely the schedule for the day.

It is important to cover the schedule for the day, for otherwise uncertainty and stress levels will rise. I have already carefully worked out what to say about the schedule, smoothing the pitfalls and glorifying the moments that are of positive significance for them. This detour in the conversation is unscripted, or maybe my brain is just too slow to keep up with them. “Those windows were windows, but a long time ago, in the olden days, they bricked them up, got rid of the glass.”



“English peoples are not liking dah windows?”
“No, English people love the windows but ….
“English peoples have no windows so dey cannot see dah grey sky?”
“Er no it’s..”
“Dey have no windows to keep out the raining?”
“Er no, it’s that..”
“English peoples not want to see dah wonky roads?”
“All very good ideas but…anyway English peoples....I mean English, er .. British people, I mean you are half English, I mean you have dual nationality, you're English too, that is to say British. Do you remember that we talked about that?”
"What you say? I am half? I am dual? What I am?"
"Never mind that now, where were we?"
"We are in dah England remember?"
"Yes I know, I meant....what did I mean?"
"You are saying I am dah half a jewel."
"I was? Er, windows, we were talking about windows."
“Yes you are dah good rememberer. English peoples are keep dah houses warming?”
“Good one, yes, I know it’s cold but..”
“English peoples hate dah Windex?” [translation = Windolene]
“Not really, it’s just that..”
“English peoples don like blue?” [translation = Windex]
“Er..”
“English peoples are dah very stoopid peoples?”
“No dear, they didn’t like the tax. In the olden days the King said that people had to pay tax depending upon the number of windows they had, so because people didn’t want to pay too much tax they bricked up a lot of their windows.”

Three pairs of eyes examine houses in the rain with bricked up windows. I try not to count the houses. I try not to count the bricked up windows. I perseverate about how to explain the abstract concept of taxation to an autistic, speech delayed six and a half year old person. [translation = how can I avoid percentages?]

“Not stoopid English peoples, stoopid English King!”

Spoken like a true republican.