One Whole Week of School
2005-08-12, 9:54 a.m.

Things are mundane today in our little world of just above and slightly to the left of normal. School won't begin homework assignments until next week, at which time the daily Shakespearean death scenes will thrash themselves out at the kitchen table. Son�s been stockpiling daggers, poison, cauldrons, and skulls to produce at whim, fueled by the loom of evil math worksheets. Monday afternoon should be fun.

Humor is a finely honed skill, and one acquired with great difficulty in his little autistic world. So it is with great pride and pleasure that I inform everyone that yesterday afternoon, he played a large prank on his overbearing big sister, aka Second Mama.

I was invited to school to discuss Son�s peanut allergy, emergency procedures, and deliver the needed medication forms. Afterwards, I let them know of some of his little quirks and idiosyncrasies, and how to tell if he�s having an Asperger�s Moment or just trying to pull a fast one. Meanwhile, Son and Daughter waited in the lobby after school, and Son convinced Daughter that I was called there for a behavioral conference about him because he had �cursed at a teacher�. That, of course, set off Daughter into a half-hour-long loud and conspicuous tirade. Son just let her go. And go. And RANT rant RANT rant rant and call much attention to herself and lecture herself hoarse and get all worked up, while he stood silently and enjoyed the spectacle and stares at her from passersby. When I emerged, I was bowled over by a high-strung sixth grader MORTALLY embarrassed that her little brother would do such a thing. When I told her the real reason for the conference, Son�s sneaky grin was priceless.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to keep Daughter from killing him.

The conference itself was enlightening. His teachers have asked questions to determine his likes and dislikes. What sports does he like? �Nothing, I�m kind of an inside nerd.� Or to the PE teacher, who wheedled him to participate: �No thank you, I don�t enjoy this, I think I�ll opt out this time.� Or to his Behavioral Management teacher, who teased him when he lost a paper by saying he must have eaten it: �No, I do not normally eat paper.� (After giving her The Look that said she must be the most illogical and ignorant force on the planet, next to his sister.) He has already conned a little girl next to him in class to do some of his work for him when he thinks the teacher isn�t looking. That�s my boy.

Daughter is her typical self, every stinking little thing is an event of catastrophic importance and if you don�t sign this form Mother the WORLD is GOING to END and ohmyGod I HAVE to HAVE this BOOK toDAY or I am DEAD because my TEACHER is going to KILL me (strangely, I have yet to note a growing mortality rate among her classmates) and I NEED a new VIOLA book and this teacher NEEDS a family PHOTO right AWAY and�

::::::::::time passes, rant continues:::::::::::

:::::::::it is now 11:00pm::::::::

�and I can�t use this BINDER and that makes me MAD because WHY won�t they tell us what we NEED so I can get ORGANIZED and there�s something WRONG with my new LUNCHBOX because my TEA won�t stay COLD and all I can TASTE is the LEMON and it�s NASTY and�

:::::::::stuff her into bed:::::::::

::::::::::mumblings grow fainter::::::::

Yep. All is back to normal in our household.

Daughter will turn 13 this month. The �you can have a couple of friends to sleep over� is already turning into a 10-guest co-ed shindig. Since I plan to toss the whole lot outside to play, there will be thunderstorms. Guaranteed.

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