I'm going to back up a bit for the sake of clarity and introduce myself. I'm Bryan, sister to Margaret. Most often we call each other Cistern, which is a reference to a 30 year old Wizard of Id comic and entertains us both. We speak a secret language, sometimes, made up of fairly screwy references to long ago books, television, or events. Those of you playing along at home please feel free to ask for clarification if the need arises.
Friday night I started my week as a single woman, meaning that my two children were starting their week with Whatshisname. I'ma keep that reference, as it fits now better than ever. My daughter A. is in the 6th grade and in a school now that she loves and that loves her. My son J is in the 2nd grade, and I'm not sure what's going to happen when he goes to the middle school. A. is an Aspie, with all of the quirky delights and challenges that come bundled with the diagnosis. One of the classic Aspie traits is being very literal, and I saw that in the last week when we were out to dinner at our neighborhood Mexican restaurant. I had enough of the fart jokes (because my son orders a bean burrito with beans on the side intentionally, and as an 8 year old boy, the fart jokes are just the Funniest. Thing. Ever. to him), so I declared enough. But as an Aspie will, A. took the joke one step further. As the steam came out of my ears, I told her she needed to apologize to the table.
You can see this coming.
She got a funny look on her face and said, "I'm sorry, table."
J. has ADD, and a little bit of an anger management problem, but most of all he's just a sweet bright kid with a lot going on upstairs.
Someone asked me today how I handled it when their dad hurt them through his dumb parenting and what I did when they called me upset about it. Fortunately, I have never had to deal with that situation; most of his stuff that he pulls is directed at me.
And now, I must rinse.