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!
“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.”
“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.