What’s So Funny?

Like a great many parents who have kids on the spectrum I would love to know what goes on inside Boo Bear’s head.  I would love to see the world through his eyes.  Sometimes, I just want to know what tickles his funny bone.  Boo has a great laugh and it is highly infectious.  Sometimes he even laughs in his sleep.  It’s on those nights that I know that his dreams do not bother him.

Today was a good day for my boy.  He got to hang out with his PCA, go for car rides, visit Target (which he adores) and eat french fries.  Not a bad day.  When he got home he was pleased to see that his dad and Mouse were going out to a WNBA game and he had me to himself for the evening.  Double bonus!  After some dinner we opted to go for a walk.  Boo is not a terribly fast walker, more of an ambler, but he does love to be out and about.  We put Rosie on her leash and headed out.  We walked along a fair ways, stopping occasionally to look at things that interested us: a passing fire truck, some pretty flowers, a busy squirrel.  Midway through our jaunt Ravi started to giggle.  I grinned at him and asked what he was thinking.  His giggle suddenly turned into a guffaw and he doubled over, hooting and cackling.  Suddenly, he tipped over and crashed into a nearby bush, chortling as he went.  By this time, I was laughing too.  (See, I told you it was contagious.) I reached into the shrubbery, fished him out, and brushed him off.  He seemed none the worse for wear for his adventure.  He wiped a few tears out from under his glasses, gave a long sigh, and seemed to be trying to pull himself together.  Slowly, like an old man, he began shuffling up the sidewalk, snickering now and then as he went.  I have absolutely no idea what had been going through his head but obviously it was very funny.  Our walk continued without any other hysterical outbursts, just the occasional giggle.

Too often people want to pity Boo, or pity me for being his parent.  We don’t need your pity: your support and empathy, yes; your pity, no.  We are just fine.  Boo is very happy and secure in his life.  He does not want material possessions.  He does not care what his clothes look like though he does love hats.  He does not care what kind of car you drive or the color of your skin.  If you are kind to him and smile and talk to him like he is a 15 year old boy, he will be your friend.  His needs are simple.  I can make his entire day by taking him to Starbucks and getting him a juice box and a piece of pumpkin bread.  He knows I am always happy to do this because then I get coffee!   He does not require a lot of entertainment, basically he is happy doing whatever I am doing at the moment.  A trip to the car wash is a cause for celebration; a juice box is manna from heaven.

So much must be going through that head of his.  There is so much I would love to know.  He will probably never say, “I love you” in words, but I know what is in his heart when he slips his hand into mine.  He may not be able to tell me what he thinks is so funny, but his giggles make me giggle, too.  Though he is as big as I am, he still will sit in my lap or lean up against me at the end of a long day.

After our walk this evening, I gave him a bath and his evening meds in his favorite ice cream.  Robert and Mouse were still out so I was going to let him stay up at bit later, just for the company.  Boo had other plans, though.  He wanted his teeth brushed, his evening treat, and the chance to crawl under the covers.  We went through our evening ritual and he happily climbed into bed.  For a while, I could hear some thumping and bumping about as he settled in for the night.  Gradually, the noises from the back room lessened.  I heard a final little giggle before he slipped into sleep.  In his world, it was a good day.

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