For Autism Awareness Month

I've been so remiss; it's not even worth explaining. And this isn't even going to make up for it; it's not going to be some deep discussion of autism or the awareness thereof or whether we ought to be past all that (we ought). I'm here only because I've been putting a bunch of N-isms on Facebook lately, and that means there are some of you--if you're still out there--who haven't seen or heard these yet.

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I told N that I'd gotten him some of the frozen french-bread pizzas he likes so much. "You knew I like those," he said, nodding his head sagely. "You know me pretty well."

It is damned near impossible to keep a straight face around that child sometimes...

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N lost his favorite blue fleecy jacket at the golf course today. Losing things he loves is hard for our boy. I was trying to explain to him that it wasn't as bad as he was making it out:

Me: It's just a jacket. It's a thing that you lost, not a person. It's not like someone died. It's just a lost thing.

N: But it IS like someone died. Jacket, Jack...Grandpa Jack?

And he crumbled to the floor in dramatic fashion.

(Usually, I can hold it together, but this time I burst out laughing. I think he bought my explanation that it was because he made a connection I would never have thought of, but it was touch and go there for a few moment. That child.)

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Last night, walking past as I was putting food on his plate, N says, "Oooh, Fwench fwies!"

I look at him with a smile, and he stops and says, "What? I was just using my baby voice. Or, actually, the voice I use when i say something in a silly way." 

And if that, my friends, isn't the best example ever of the war between humor and the ingrained literalness of an ASD kid, I don't know what is.


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N's latest test of his ability to locate states and remember their capitals. His spelling. It slays me. Which one's your favorite?

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Happy April, folks.