The Good Boy
When Connor was young, he didn’t have the outbursts and meltdowns that so many other kids with autism experience. In the intervening years since I first wrote this article, those have developed, as have a regimen of medications that either keep his outbursts in check or enable us to restore calm, usually within fifteen minutes or so. But, when Connor was very young, he was usually quiet and relatively compliant. At his babysitters, this earned him the nickname “The good boy.”
Damian was known as “the bad boy.”
Damian was the other boy at the sitter’s. It’s not that he was bad, really, it’s just that he was a boy. He was rambunctious, loud and everything you’d expect a boy to be. Damian played with toy guns, Damian teased girls, Damian pretended he was a superhero and beat up bad guys. Damian did boy stuff.
And he made an impression on Connor. Like many autistic children Connor didn’t play with other kids, he plays alongside them. There was no real interaction. However, I think that while he may not have interact he did observe other kids. He might have even learn from them about how to have fun. Especially boy fun.
Boy Stuff
I picked up Connor from the sitter and brought him home. It was a nice summer day so I headed out to the porch to sit and read and Connor followed. He ran, jumped, made noise and did everything he could to keep me from reading.
Everything.
As I sat in my chair I heard a small noise behind me. It was Connor. He had passed gas. Then he stepped around to the side of my chair and did it again. This time it was louder. Then, with a cheesy grin on his face, giggling and looking me in the eye, Connor said, “I poop.”
He hadn’t. It was just gas. Stinky and hilarious gas.
One of the things that has always fascinated me about my son’s autism is how much like any other boy he is. He’s loud, he plays hard. He likes to reach up high and touch things. He loves to climb. Connor does boy stuff.
I for one am very pleased that my son appreciates fart jokes.
If you don’t find farts funny then you’re a loser because you’re choosing to have less joy in your life but the exact same amount of farts
— Emily Heller (@MrEmilyHeller) June 15, 2014
