Stupid, stupid Asperger’s Syndrome…it thwarts all my mockery attempts.
What I need is a partner in crime, a Costanza to my Seinfeld, a mentee in the art of snarkyness and mockery.
Teasing is a virtual no-no in my house. With great tedium I chip away at the hypersensitivity that is my son’s Asperger cloak. I coach and prompt him in ridiculing husband with shouts of “you’re old and slow, big man, try and catch me!” Progress is painfully slow.
When Auntie parades around in socks and sandals, obviously begging to be either ridiculed or shunned, I show the boy how to wield sharply witty snarky-isms like a ninja. But he mistakes it for being mean and commits the ultimate treason, defending the obvious fashion faux pas.
I mean, without Jack, Karen was just a pill-popping boozehound. I need my Jack, damnit!
Yin and Yang
“It’s fun and okay to tease people, as long as they don’t cry”, I tell him. He doesn’t believe me. He tells me it’s “mean.” He has turned to the dark side, and I fear he may never become a Jedi.
Or am I the dark side? Nah, I’m a freakin’ Jedi.
I think I lost him because of Phineas and Ferb, which is, perhaps, the best cartoon EVER. Big sister, Candace, is forever trying to bust the boys, and is heard in every single episode screaming “you are sooooooo BUSTED!!”
When Connor does something trivial, a minor inconsequential infraction, I will tease him by calling out “You are soooooooo BUSTED!!!”
Talk about pissed off. Wow.
“It’s just fun teasing”, I tell him.
“I don’t like it, you shouldn’t tease!”
I don’t see how this child could possibly be my spawn. Hey little boy!! It’s fun to laugh. It’s even more fun to laugh AT someone!
Hey look, there’s the crazy neighbors again. The grown thirty-something “boys” are in the garage again, shirts off, lifting weights and yelling obscenities in whatever eastern European language they speak. Looks like it’s just ME hanging out and laughing at them today. Damn, a perfect mother-son bonding experience missed.
But darn, no time for that today. I’ve got to get back to work, teaching this boy humor. Even if it kills me…which it might, if I laugh at him.
The way of the Jedi is never easy…
But then, a tiny glimmer of hope. Getting out of the bath last night, looking down at his wet footprint and telling me, “look how big my foot is.”
That's me on the left.
“It sure is. Your feet are getting HUGE.”
“Yeah, but they’ll never be as big as YOURS.”
Yes, he does have my genes after all.
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I made it to the top 100...help me claw my way to the top 20!
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Living on the Spectrum: The Connor Chronicles 
I know exactly what you’re talking about..I am as dry and sarcastic as day old bread and I’m thwarted with my own words—Mom, that wasn’t nice, how would that make you feel, perhaps you should go to your room and think about THAT.
I mean who CAN’T pass up taking pot-shots at WalMart—it’s like my playground and I get shot down every single time. Damn.
I’ve tagged you–but I’m going to run away real fast before you beat me! Haha! Totally ooptional of course!!! See, I can give you writing materirial for weeks! 😉
Aww, Connor is a sweetheart! Until it comes to the mama – seems like he knows if you can dish it out, you can take it! (Don’t have a problem with this one yet – I need “snark” lessons and a kid who does not laugh at random sounds before this will show up on my radar…)
Keep plugging. He may get it. My boy is 13 and now, due to the constant sarcasm and snark that flies in our house, he kinda gets it. He tries to join in every once in a while too. As you know, when he does – it’s beyond awesome.
I’m thinking that cartoon image has LESS bodyhair than YOU!! Otherwise, spot on!
Oh I could totally be your George Costanza. Thankfully I have my mom around to join in. She was the one who taught me everything I know. My Obi-Wan Kenobi? I’m not really up on the Star Wars analogies. I like the feet crack though…he’s getting there.
I did something different. Not better, just different. I agreed with my kids that some of the humor out there seemed like bad manners. When there was a hypersensitive meltdown due to sracasm (planet spectrum does not comprehend), irony (Inaccurate lying), or snarky insults (confusing to Mr. Literal) we framed it as,”Some people have better manners than others.” Then, instead of it becoming a judgemental conflagration, we could toss the manners card down and move on.
BTW-Another blogger will now kick my ass for giving “advice” I’m not, just sharing experience that made some exchanges less impossible. (Yoda Voice: Learning, we are. Jedi we may be soon.)
The Boy has always had a sense of humor. I think it was Darwinian adaptation, or he’d never get along with me.
What he can’t stand is when kids call each other gay or retard (they can’t help it, they don’t own dictionaries). He thinks they mean it, and has to tell them how mean it is.
Lest anyone think he’s a sensitive fellow, he’s the same kid who told some lady (a complete stranger), in KMart, “I can’t believe God would make someone as fat and ugly as you.”
HA! Awesome!! Your little boy is growing up!