Forget Christmas.
Every parent knows that the real Most Wonderful Time of the Year is back to school. I think my kids sense the oncoming of the furthering of their education. So, kind and sweet darlings that they are, they amp up their bad behavior to ensure that Mummy will not be sad at their departure. Here's an example.
Monday is library night. Not quite sure why I bother to call it thus. It's actually, "Escape from Mommy in the parking lot, run furiously to the library whilst randomly squealing and saying RAWR at strangers, and then plopping self in front of computer for 30 minutes, night." No joke. For some odd reason, my son turns all Jurassic at the library. No where else--just the library.
This particular trip was the most epic since Ethan lost his battle against Miralax and exploded. As usual, he wriggled from my grasp and sped towards the door. Fine, fine. At least he's on the sidewalk. He got near the doors, just as some poor woman was exiting--carrying her bag of books, etc. He accosts this poor lady--trying to grab her bag away from her, while pawing through her things and starting to take stuff! I'm not very athletic, but I think I broke some sprint records, because Olympic officials are eyeing me approvingly.
Upon arriving at the scene of the crime, I hurriedly extract my son from this woman's personal belonging, uttering my life's motto: "I'm so sorry! He's autistic and doesn't know any better." This is a half-truth. Yes, he's autistic--but good gravy he HAS to know better. On some molecular level, surely this child knows better. I turned bright red, probably looking like a tomato with freckles. Ethan manages to wrest himself away again, and bolts into the library. He usually runs all the way to the computers, yelling some ancient Celtic war-cry as he does so. Even the librarians have given up hope on my son. They start to get pissed, looking up to reprimand, but then they realize who it is and go back to work in defeat. Not today, oh no. Ethan instead launches himself towards the swinging panel to get BEHIND the front desk. From somewhere deep within me, a primal sounds bubbled up from the depths and when released, sounded vaguely like a satanic mythical creature.
"NNOOOO!!!" I rasped, not wanting to full-out yell in a library--but it had to get the job done. Not recognizing that sound from within me, yet sensing immediate and eminent danger, Ethan reconsidered his coup of the library and ran to the computers.
Wiping the sheen of sweat from my forehead, I managed to find videos and books for the week. Everything was progressing just fine, but then it came time to go. To transition, I allow Ethan to pick 2 DVDs and then he checks them out. Afterwards, he hauls butt outside and into the park to run. Well, there are a group of Uber-geeks from UCO that have started meeting in the park. I don't know what the heck they're doing, but it involves pretend sword-play, shields, and fake arrows. They battle each other. I think you know what's coming. Yes. My son runs directly into the battle, yells incoherent things at them, and starts to hit one of the shields. What to do....
I decided to ignore him. Yup. I let him loose on the geeks. I had filled my embarrassment quota. Luckily, Ethan tired of the geeks and between my mother and I, (and one spanking) was able to get him into the car. It is a miracle that I have not been driven to drink. So good luck teachers. Bless you. Bless you to the 10th generation.
Every parent knows that the real Most Wonderful Time of the Year is back to school. I think my kids sense the oncoming of the furthering of their education. So, kind and sweet darlings that they are, they amp up their bad behavior to ensure that Mummy will not be sad at their departure. Here's an example.
Monday is library night. Not quite sure why I bother to call it thus. It's actually, "Escape from Mommy in the parking lot, run furiously to the library whilst randomly squealing and saying RAWR at strangers, and then plopping self in front of computer for 30 minutes, night." No joke. For some odd reason, my son turns all Jurassic at the library. No where else--just the library.
This particular trip was the most epic since Ethan lost his battle against Miralax and exploded. As usual, he wriggled from my grasp and sped towards the door. Fine, fine. At least he's on the sidewalk. He got near the doors, just as some poor woman was exiting--carrying her bag of books, etc. He accosts this poor lady--trying to grab her bag away from her, while pawing through her things and starting to take stuff! I'm not very athletic, but I think I broke some sprint records, because Olympic officials are eyeing me approvingly.
Upon arriving at the scene of the crime, I hurriedly extract my son from this woman's personal belonging, uttering my life's motto: "I'm so sorry! He's autistic and doesn't know any better." This is a half-truth. Yes, he's autistic--but good gravy he HAS to know better. On some molecular level, surely this child knows better. I turned bright red, probably looking like a tomato with freckles. Ethan manages to wrest himself away again, and bolts into the library. He usually runs all the way to the computers, yelling some ancient Celtic war-cry as he does so. Even the librarians have given up hope on my son. They start to get pissed, looking up to reprimand, but then they realize who it is and go back to work in defeat. Not today, oh no. Ethan instead launches himself towards the swinging panel to get BEHIND the front desk. From somewhere deep within me, a primal sounds bubbled up from the depths and when released, sounded vaguely like a satanic mythical creature.
"NNOOOO!!!" I rasped, not wanting to full-out yell in a library--but it had to get the job done. Not recognizing that sound from within me, yet sensing immediate and eminent danger, Ethan reconsidered his coup of the library and ran to the computers.
Wiping the sheen of sweat from my forehead, I managed to find videos and books for the week. Everything was progressing just fine, but then it came time to go. To transition, I allow Ethan to pick 2 DVDs and then he checks them out. Afterwards, he hauls butt outside and into the park to run. Well, there are a group of Uber-geeks from UCO that have started meeting in the park. I don't know what the heck they're doing, but it involves pretend sword-play, shields, and fake arrows. They battle each other. I think you know what's coming. Yes. My son runs directly into the battle, yells incoherent things at them, and starts to hit one of the shields. What to do....
I decided to ignore him. Yup. I let him loose on the geeks. I had filled my embarrassment quota. Luckily, Ethan tired of the geeks and between my mother and I, (and one spanking) was able to get him into the car. It is a miracle that I have not been driven to drink. So good luck teachers. Bless you. Bless you to the 10th generation.
I totally appreciate that Ethan went and attacked the uber geeks.
ReplyDeleteThankful it's school time!!!